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THE METROPOLITES; 

OR, 

KNOW THY NEIGHBOR. 

21 ViomL 


ROBEKT 



GEAR. 


“ ’Tis an old tale and often told, 

But did my fate and wish agree, 

Ne’er had been read in story old. 

Of maiden true beti-ayed for gold. 

That loved, or was avenged like me.” 

Makmion. 




N E W , Y O R K : 

a 

AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY. 

• 121 NASSAU STREET. 

hi O, / . 




/ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
AWEIUCAN NEWS COMPANY, 

In tlie Cdcrk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the SoutherQ- 

District of New York. 


I 


R. OBAIOHEAD, 

Printer, Stereoiyper, and EleeiretxpWt 

Caitou )3uilbt)tg, 

81, 83, and 85 Centrt Slrttt, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


CHAPTER I. 

On a bright morning in winter, two young lawyers were 
seated in a Wall street office, in New York. The sun sent 
its genial rays through the windows, and the young men were 
gaily talking on various topics — more suitable, however, for a 
clul>-room. At length one of them arose to take his departure. 

“Wait a moment,” said his companion. “I will go down 
street with you whenever Tunc makes his appearance.” 

“What is keeping the boy so late?” asked the other, re- 
suming his seat. 

“ I don’t know, Harry, unless he is in search of his father, 
in which event we will not see him again, if he intends bring- 
ing his affectionate parent along with him.” Such was the 
answer of the loquacious Walter Parker, shaking back his 
long, black hair, and throwing his large, dark eyes upon 
Harry Chester. 

“ Have you no knowledge of his relatives, beyond the sim- 
ple statement made at the time he was taken into the office 
by your uncle ?” 

“No statement at all was made beyond the fact that he 


6 


THE METROPOLltES. 


has no father, and never had ; at least no one would acknow- 
ledge the paternity.” 

“ How, then, ahcKit his mother ?” 

“ The female sex, you know, Harry, are famed for their 
modesty, and in this instance, perhaps, have wisely kept 
silence.” 

“ Then the hoy is without father and mother.” 

“ That is the natural presumption in such cases, with the 
saving clause that he possessed at one time those incum- 
brances, and may still have them, if not gone to Greenwood 
cemetery, or some other such steamboat landing, from whence 
no return trip is ever expected. The enterprising spiritual- 
ists, however, are about establishing an air line to accommo- 
date passengers wantmg to come back — a speculation that 
will imdoubtedly pay somebody.” 

“ But you know the name of the boy.” 

“ Certainly, we know the name given to him, not in bap- 
tism, but when brought here by the woman who had the long 
private confab in the other room with the senior counsellor 
of this establishment. He was called Nathan P. Trenk, 
which N. P. T. stands for nunc pro tunc^ in legal stenogra- 
phy. Tunc is more professional than Trenk, hence the 
change.” 

“The ‘senior counsellor,’ as you call your uncle, might 
enlighten you as to the boy’s antecedents.” 

“Well, I did inquire,” said Parker, “but he was extremely 
costive on the topic. He gave me, moreover, a metaphori- 
cal rap for my curiosity. Whereupon, I promptly apologized 
on the spot, declaring I did not mean to suggest he had any 
private reasons of his own for hushing up the matter.” 

“ How did he relish the insinuation ?” 

“As well as might be expected. He said nothing, but 


THE METROPOLITES. 


7 


went off with the conviction that pouring acids on my angelic 
temper was not the way to make things palatable. How- 
ever, it settled the hash, as vinegar will settle hash ; for it 
put an end to all further remarks about Tunc. I believe the 
old Governor would have told me all had I been less precipi- 
tate in my conclusions. But, pursuing some private researches 
in the case, I have arrived at some satisfactory results.” 

• “ What are they ? — pray tell me,” said Chester, laugh- 
ing. 

Walter Parker placed his legs upon the table, and, inter- 
locking his fingers over the top of his head, threw himself 
back in his chair, with the intention to make a clean breast of 
it or to mystify his companion, and thus slowly began : 

“1 am satisfied that Tunc first saw the lights of heaven and of 
the Highlands of Nevesink at the same time ; for his native soil 
is Coney Island — if sand, surf, and sea-weed can be called soil. 
It was near that classic shore the Jung Frau fell to pieces. 
I mean the German immigrant ship of that name. And 
about the -same date, in the most approved almanacs. Tunc 
presented himself on tjie beach, with no more clothes than a 
sand-piper, nor much larger than one of those diminutive 
bipeds. Had he made his first appearance in public as an 
infant phenomenon in the days of yore, on the isles of Greece, 
perhaps his advent would have been announced in the largest 
curb-stone handbills as a stray olive branch from Olympus. 
But the fates having otherwise ordered, his arrival was anti- 
cipated by our people, who imitate the ancients when it is 
possible ; who call their cities after those of antiquity ; who 
name their children after the iron-clad heroes of Homer, with- 
out steam boilers ; who invent words of Argive polysyllables 
for every new machine ; and who, in this street, are Greeks 
to all intents and purposes.” 


8 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ But what has all this to do with the boy ?” asked 
Chester. 

“ Don’t interrupt the court, if you please. Now the legend 
goes on to state that such infant phenomenon being expected 
from accidents to Jung Fraus^ the public had made suitable 
provision for their reception. So soon as this incident hap- 
pened, messengers were sent up into the country among the 
natives to the capital of the empire, where dwelt the supreme 
officers of state. At the time a regency flourished, as the 
sovereign. Vox Populi, was in his minority; at least they 
said he was in a minority, as his father, Vox Dei, had sub- 
sided some time before into keeping a lager-bier saloon. As 
I was saying, a regency, composed of wise men, administered 
the government with great prudence and great profit, inas- 
much as they were in continual fear of having their heads 
chopped offi It is said they were willing to shed their blood 
for Vox Populi, and it is well known they made their friends 
bleed pretty freely, which shows they were impartial. In 
fact phlebotomy was almost played out, for they were con- 
stantly putting up posters about their ‘bleeding country.’ 
This was a periodical sacrifice to the sovereign. Vox Populi, 
till the annual autumnal plague was abated. But this is all 
beside the record.” 

Here Harry Chester became somewhat impatient, which 
his loquacious friend perceiving, went on in a diflerent strain. 

“ But this, you would say, is beside the record of the boy. 
Well, then, the story of the infant on the sands of Coney 
Island was one at which these wise men marvelled much, and 
forthwith consulted the counsellors, or state organs, as they 
are called in the native dialect, to tell them what was to be 
done ; and who did tell them. Ten governors were chosen 
for this baby, to take charge of his health and education ; a 


THE METROPOLITES. 


9 


royal castle was built of marble or limestone, which is all the 
same in geology, for his reception ; a river was turned from its 
channel to purify the atmosphere, or for pump- water ; and the 
revenues of a large city set apart to pay expenses. N urses were 
procured ; medical men were m attendance ; sages of great 
learning were present to expound the laws of the empire ; 
with the pick and choice between two religions, whose creeds 
benevolently roasted each other, both, therefore, patriotically 
supported by liberal municipal taxation. Within the palace 
gates might be heard spoken all the various languages of the 
polished courts of the world, saltpetred with some Doric 
variations, more sulphuric than sublime or refined. The 
Regency were well pleased, as the princely domicil was on 
an island removed from the contaminating influence of female 
benevolent institutions; and the sovereign, Yox Populi, was 
delighted. Such a foreign air was about the palatial man- 
sion, that Vox would have been in ecstasy had only the boy 
been foreign born, and the naturalization papers of his father 
made out in due form of law. Ye Gods ! would he not soon 
have been called on for a vote-ive ofiering to the idols of the 
nation! Once every year after the festival of Ceres, and 
after the season when mournful hjunns are sung in commemo- 
ration of her daughter’s marriage with Pluto, the lawgivers 
of the State, noted for their piety to the goddess of agricul- 
ture in the rural districts, and renowned for their lineal 
descent from Solon, Lycurgus, and N’uma Pompilius, are 
wont to proceed in state to this sumptuous island. There 
the rites sacred to Bacchus are resumed, and oblations, culled 
from the choice pressure of corn, of grape, and strychnine, are 
poured out in copious libations. Then the Pompilians return 
by night, in hacks hired at the city’s expense, elated with 

favorable omens, reeling under the divinity’s influence, in- 

1 * 


10 


THE METROPOLITES. 


spired with thoughts more than mortal, and singing appro- 
priate sacred songs of Hellenic anthology or Ethiopian origin, 
as they are borne along in ecstatic trance, like the Grecian 
girl glowing from the embrace — ” 

At this instant Walter, losing his balance on his chair, was 
near falling, when Chester seized the opportunity to exclaim : 

“ Oh, stop your nonsense. What became of the boy born 
like a sand-piper ?” 

“ I forgot, Harry — excuse me. I was thinking of the jolly 
time these fellows have of it, and how well the facts would 
look if clothed in hexameter on their journals.” 

“ What jolly fellows are you talking about ? You do not 
mean to say that Pompilians, as you call them, can be found, 
and that you believe all' the rigmarole you have been 
telling?” 

“Believe it!” exclaimed Walter ; “ To be sure I believe it. 
Why not ? It is true as Genesis. Oh, if they would only 
make me their clerk, would I not describe their spree ! Would 
I not flourish myself! But the age of Froissarts is gone.” 

Once more he resumed his cigar. 

“ Well, tell me, Walter, what became of the boy ? Go on 
with his story. I suppose you know where he went after he 
left Randall’s Island ?” 

“ I tell the tale as it was told to me. I never inquired the 
name of the island, as that would imply a doubt of the 
legend.” 

“ Then let us have the sequel in your own style.” 

“Not much more remains to tell,” said Walter. “The 
boy fed, learned, and grew fat for some dozen of years, and 
then ran away. He tried to get a situation as a steamboat 
porter, but not being able to lift a trunk high enough to 
smash it, was very properly refused. Next he thought of 


THE METROPOLITES. 


11 


being a cook or cabin-boy on a canal boat. But in the mean- 
time he was hungry, tired, and sleepy ; so, like Undine, he 
made a dive for an oyster cellar, where they gave him some- 
thing to eat, and the privilege of sleeping, like a Peri, on a 
basket of shells — his parent earth, as it were. It is said his 
mother, in short skirts and woollen stockings, appeared to 
him in a dream, and warned him to give up his canal boat 
ham and egg frying-pan speculation. Next he was unsuccess- 
ful as an humble member of the news- vending fraternity ; when 
he politely commenced polishing the virgin street pavements 
with a broom and blacking gentlemen’s muddy pedestals 
with a brush. Finally, he was brought here by a very decent 
sort of a looking woman, to punch the fire, copy papers, and 
carry them to their destination ; or to do whatever may be 
wanted of an office-boy. And so the tale ended.” 

“ Classical, and correspondingly fabulous,” remarked Ches- 
ter. “ In what period of ancient history did all this happem ?” 

“In the eleventh Presidential Olympiad, when Andrew, 
the Old Harry or Hickory, was archon,” answered Walter, 
gravely as he would quote a passage from Thucydides. 

“ What does the boy say of himself?” 

“ He seems to be ignorant of his parentage, and morbidly 
sensitive on the subject ; wherefore I have never had the 
heart to press the inquiry.” 

Chester mused over the strange story for some minutes, 
half doubting its being authentic, half inclined to believe 
Walter, although well knowing his fondness for this kind of 
fanciful legendary exhibition. At length he remarked : “ It 
is strange that Tunc, as you call him, should ever have been 
a pauper at Randall’s Island.” 

At that moment a boy of some fourteen or fifteen summers 
entered the room, after closing the door carefully behind him. 


12 


THE METROPOLITES. 


He was dressed with the utmost neatness, more befitting the 
son of a gentleman than an outcast ; and in his air and m his 
manners the expression of such sweetness, that no fond 
mother ever doated on a more beautiful child. His light 
brown hair fell over his clear forehead, and his deep blue 
' eyes, with their long lashes, gave to his rosy cheeks a clear, 
soft, effeminate hue, seldom seen in youth ; while his figure, 
rather tall and slim, but healthy, betokened no hardships 
or sufferings in the unknown quarter where he was nurtured. 

Walking up to Walter, the boy, with a clear, ringing 
voice, softly said : “ I am sorry in being so late to-day, as it 
was only an accident.” 

To this Walter made no reply, but gazing in his sweet 
face, at the same time brushing with his hand the boy’s hair 
from his clear forehead, slowly answered : “ Ho one doubts 
it, my brave fellow ; so long as you keep that honest look, you 
will be a beauty.” 

The boy next approached and shook hands with Harry 
Chester, whom he had not seen for several days. Could this 
graceful youth be the shipwrecked child of an unknown Ger- 
man immigrant ? Who could say that he had sprung up 
from infancy among toil, suffering, and squalid associations ? 
Such might have been the reflections of these young lawyers 
as they sat admiring his prepossessing appearance and deport- 
ment. The kind tone of Walter’s voice had fallen upon his 
sensitive heart to fill up a void long felt in his precocious 
bosom for a friend in whom to trust. 

“ How, take a seat by the fire,” said Walter, “ and tell us 
the price of apples, if that forbidden fruit was the temptation 
which detained you.” 

“I did not stop below Canal street,” the boy answered; 
“ a fire was at a ribbon store, and I remained to — ” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


13 


“ Of course, you remained to do something for your coun- 
try,” interrupted Walter. “It is astonishing, Chester, what 
a prevailing epidemic patriotism has become in Young Ame- 
rica. It is a positive disease. But how went the day, my 
gallant Tunc, at the fire, among the ribbons ? Did you save 
any of the pieces, or were your attentions exclusively devoted 
to the ladies, you dissipated young rascal ? It is well you 
cannot speak French, or you would have endeavored to insi- 
nuate yourself into the good graces of the old she-dragon that 
keeps the store. I know her well.” 

“ I did help her,” was Tune’s reply, warming his hands. 

“ You helped her ! In what way did you make yourself 
useful ?” 

The boy answered : “ The old lady was in great distress 
about her little girl, whom she would trust to no one. I 
ofiered to take care of it, and she let me do so.” 

“ I suppose the old dragon kissed you for a good wet-nurse, 
if the fii’emen were playing their hose upon you ?” 

The boy blushed, and only admitted that she had thanked 
him for his services. 

“ How do you know she thanked you, when she does not 
speak a word of English ?” 

“ Because I spoke to her in French, and then she permitted 
me to hold her child.” 

Hereupon Walter gave a prolonged whistle of astonish- 
ment. “ So you understand French, do you ? I thought 
German was your mother tongue.” 

Tunc answered briefiy : “I speak both.” 

“ At what school, my boy, did you get your learning ?” 

A crimson glow sufiused his countenance, as with down- 
cast look he answered : “ I don’t know.” 

“ But your mother spoke German ?” 


14 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ I don’t know,” the boy again modestly replied, in the 
same desponding tone. 

“Possibly in fitting you for your public career,” Walter 
remarked, “ your kind professors threw in a few more dic- 
tionaries and grammars — Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian ?” 

Tunc was about to answer hastily, but after a moment’s 
pause he submissively replied: “If I am acquainted with 
other languages, I can only say I do not know which I 
learned first, for I did not learn them at any school.” 

The young lawyers exchanged glances of surprise at this 
unexpected response. The conversation had become highly 
interesting. But Walter Parker perceived he had uninten- 
tionally touched upon delicate ground. To change the sub- 
ject, therefore, he hastily remarked : “ Why don’t you add 
music and dancing to your other perfections, to flirt with all 
the prime donne and ballet dancers ? But I dare say you 
loiow them all.” 

The boy’s eyes sparkled as he answered: “Pretty much.” 

“ What do you mean by ‘pretty much,’ you old reprobate ? 
Is it the aits you know, or only the lungs and legs of the 
artists ?” 

Tunc laughed, as he replied : “I am very fond of music and 
dancing, and see much of them at the opera and Niblo’s. 
These people are very kind to me, and more than one prima 
donna has taken me with her shopping, to her dressing-room, 
and to rehearsals.” 

“ Do they sing for you ?” 

“ Yes, whenever I ask them. And then, you know, I have 
sometimes to accompany them in soprano, or to play for 
them when practising.” 

“Odds quavers and crotchets,” exclaimed Parker, “a 
musician also! Why, my fine fellow, we will make you 


THE METROPOLITES. 


15 


chairman for the hoard of directors of a hand-organ manu- 
factory.” 

“ I did not say,” interrupted the boy, “ that I was a musi- 
cian.” 

“Yes, you are,” said Walter. 

“Get thee an ape and trudge Broadway, 

Making sounds horrid night and day. 

While I think of it, Mr. Punchinello, you had better run over 
to the monkey boarding-house in Brooklyn, kept by the Jeru- 
salem creoles, and purchase or hire one of their pets ; or, if 
you wish, I will write on your behalf an epistle to the He- 
brews. Then, if music be the food of love, grind on. And 
take with you the little barefooted daughter of Zion, to circu- 
late the tambourine for a deposit of copjier-coined currency. 
But perhaps. Tunc, your taste lies in the ballet. How do 
you relish the little dancing-girls, with pipe-stem legs and 
cobweb shake-downs? Tell us what you know of the 
sylphids.” 

The boy was in no haste to speak ; but an evident desire 
to please overcame his reluctance on a subject that seemed 
to be painful. At length he answered : “ Dancing is difficult 
to learn, but I was sickly and very weak. It did me good 
and made me strong. I am now right glad I danced so much, 
so very, very much. But these poor little girls suffer.” 

“Where, my dear fellow,” ‘exclaimed Walter, “are your 
accomplishments to end? Surely, you must have gratified 
Some good relative in learning them.” 

The boy replied mournfully : “ I never had any accomplish- 
ments, nor any relative to be pleased with them.” 

“ Poor fellow ! are you alone in the world, without friends 
to care for you, and with none even to cheer you on ?” 


16 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Alone,” repeated the hoy, as the tear started in his eye, 
and he abruptly left the room. 

That night the old counsellor and Walter held a long con- 
sultation ; but what happened was never known. On the 
next day the woman who had brought the boy, being sent 
for, was closeted as before. Never again was she known to 
enter the office ; nor did Tunc make his appearance as usual. 
In a few months he was forgotten by the clients who had 
noticed his handsome face, as important changes soon after 
occurred. The good old uncle, the senior counsel, suddenly 
died, so that Walter succeeded to his place in the inner room, 
with all its business and tin boxes, its perquisites and parch- 
ments. But amid the mass of papers nothing was found to 
reveal the mystery respecting the boy. Perhaps the old 
uncle was as ignorant as his nephew on the subject. 


CHAPTER II. 

Those who controlled the destinies of the unfortunate boy 
had wisely resolved to remove him from the drudgery of a 
lawyer’s office, and to give him a classical education. He 
was therefore sent to college at a distance from the city, 
where he soon after arrived 'with a heavy heart. It was in- 
deed a great trial to deprive him of the society of the few 
from whom he had received kindness, and to place him among 
strangers indifferent to his welfare. He was now too distant 
from New York to have anything in common with the me- 
tropolis, and he felt not only solitary but sad in the extreme. 
No friendly hand was outstretched to give him a welcome; 


THE METROPOLITES. 


17 


no familiar face to smile a greeting in initiating him to the 
habits and customs of student life. 

His presence at recitations first attracted the attention of 
his classmates, where his prepossessing appearance made for 
him a favorable impression, while his manly bearing when 
addressing the professor won for him all hearts. Yet his 
innate modesty, his distrust of himself, gave him many 
desponding hours, causing him even to shrink often with 
timidity when in public. But, calling to his aid his indomi- 
table resolution, and knowing full well he had to carve out 
his own fortunes, he persevered till he was reconciled to 
the change. As time wore on, his proficiency in ancient 
languages created astonishment and admiration, which in- 
creased when recitations came ofl* in French in the modem 
department. Some trivial circumstance excited the interest 
of the instructor, as he became aware of. Trenk’s intimate 
knowledge of that tongue. The Professor sent for him to 
come to his apartments, ostensibly to ascertain if his further 
attendance in the French class were required; but in reality 
to learn something of the modest, manly boy, who was un- 
known to all. The aged linguist received him kindly, and 
after some inquiries, dispatched him to the residence of the 
president of the college with a note, to serve as an introduc- 
tion. 

The Rev. Doctor Sempronins, the chief of this venerable 
and richly endowed seat of learning, had already passed the 
meridian of his long and useful life without showing any 
signs of physical decrepitude or mental decline. His fame 
for piety, his learning and eloquence, his zeal and success in 
the cause of education, had given him an en\dable, unbounded 
reputation throughout the country. His profound judgment, 
his sagacity, his experience in the common affairs of life ; 


18 


THE METROPOLITES. 


above all, his admirable control over youths who came within 
his influence, acquired for him a pre-eminent standing and 
position. It was therefore expected he would be looked 
upon as superior to his fellow men — as one to be revered, 
honored, and beloved. In his boyhood he had sat at the feet 
of those great minds, those giants in energy and in genius 
who achieved the national independence, who created — and 
the more difficult task — upheld the new political institutions, 
leaving behind them the impress of their actions ’ and senti- 
ments in those immortal writings that may long survive even 
the republic of their creation. They acted and wrote “ not 
for an age, but for all time,” as was said of Shakspeare by a 
contemporary poet ; and they founded an empire, not for a 
few straggling, sparsely populated States, stretched along the 
shores of an ocean, but for a densely peopled, wealthy, and 
Avide-Spreading hemisphere of the globe. 

Doctor Sempronius had watched over and directed the 
mental development of the strongest and brightest intellects 
of the succeeding generation, some of whom had already 
passed away — some of whom were yet putting forth the 
great powers he had long before trained them to exercise 
properly. Another growth was noAv springing up, twining 
the delicate infant tendrils of their young hearts and plastic 
minds around the venerable preceptor, standing like a hoary 
monument of the past, to give form and pressure in sagely 
precept, in illustrious example, to those who were destined 
to become potential and to wield the destinies of a nation. 
I^or was he unmindful of the duties required of him in the 
advancement of learning, the progress in science, the cul- 
ture of the moral and religious qualities, that go hand in 
hand with political ethics. To the arts he was no less 
devoted, although not falling immediately within his sphere 


THE METROPOLITES. 19 

of action ; for in them he saw the useful, the ennobling, the 
refining influences on his coimtrymen. 

Many wondered he had not walked forth into the arena of 
active life, to participate in its strifes, to win the honors and 
renown so easily to be won by him, so justly due to his tran- 
scendent abilities. As a patriot, as a Christian, as a duty to 
himself, it was thought he had sufiered the tide of affairs to 
flow past without bearing him on its buoyant wave of for- 
tune to more enduring fame. But to him these opinions 
seemed fallacious, as he believed he was discharging his 
duties with fidelity and all honor at his appropriate post 
assigned to him in the battle of life. It is true he was not 
foremost in the field, the most conspicuous to public gaze, 
the one on whom was concentrated the most popular applause. 
In the distribution of forces pushing on in the campaign of 
human progress, his station seemed to be in the rear, amid 
the reserves, relieved from the perils of the day, but where 
none of its brilliant honors are won. Be it so, thought he. 
While the army of civilization advances its successive columns, 
their tactics, their weapons, their very principles of action, 
are for ever improving, changing, discarded ; new conscripts 
are for ever wanted, and each conscript must be familiar with 
every approved change or modification of the preceding, 
knowing more than his predecessor. For ever looking to the 
front to note the perpetual mutation, for ever training the 
reserves for each new modification, he carefully inspected 
every young recruit in the passing review before him, in con- 
scious pride and satisfaction of his duty performed. A patriot, 
he proclaimed no new, no startling political platform ; a 
soldier of the cross, he unfurled no peculiar religious banner ; 
a martyr, he suffered no blazing honors from the fagot to be 
enshrined with posthumous apotheosis as a saint. 


20 


THE METROPOLITES. 


The senior students, who knew much of the venerable 
Doctor, looked up to him with reverence, almost bordering 
on awe, and spoke of him as a man superior to all other mor- 
tals. In their intercourse with him they were overcome with 
a sense of their own inferiority, till he brought them back to 
a more correct estimate of their relative merits by a peculiar 
tact with which he swayed young people. But Trenk, fortu- 
nately, or unfortunately, had never learned much about the 
President, nor had the few allusions to him been noticed with 
more respect than as many traditions about some myth. 
When, therefore, the boy was ushered into the presence of 
Doctor Sempronius, he felt none of the profound abasement, 
the shrinking insignificance he might have experienced had 
his information been more accurate or extensive. He only 
saw before him a venerable, white-haired, tall, clerical gentle- 
man, whose striking features commanded respect, due both 
to his years and position. Trenk, in silence, handed him the 
note, while the Doctor motioned him to be seated as he read 
its contents. 

“ This note informs me,” slowly remarked the President, 
raising his glasses from his eyes to his forehead, “ that you 
have lately arrived, my son, and are familiar with the modem 
languages. I believe you are from New York, where your 
parents reside ?” 

“ I have no parents, sir.” 

“ Oh, I beg pardon ; your guardian.” 

“Nor guardian,” answered Trenk, in a frank, manly 
voice. 

The Doctor looked earnestly in the boy’s face for a moment, 
while he grasped his spectacles with his crooked little finger, 
and then once more glanced at the note in his hand. 

“ Did you not bring letters with you ?” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


21 


“ I do not know wh:it was written. But it is possible old 
Mr. Parker, in his kindness, may have sent a letter.” 

“ True enough, true enough,” the doctor said, musing, as 
if recalling the fact ; “ but you can go, my son.” And as 
Trenk rose to leave the room, the President added : “ I hope 
you will be attentive to your studies, to prove a blessing and 
honor to your,” here he recollected himself, “ to your country.” 

“ But I have no country,” Trenk answered, as he made his 
bow and closed the door behind him. 

“No parents, no guardian, no country,” muttered the vene- 
rable man aloud to himself, turning over a file of letters, till 
he found one for which he sought. After a careful perusal, 
he laid it down to reflect upon its contents. “No wonder 
Parker, that cunning old fox, could make nothing of this 
mystery. But he was right in sending him to me. A life 
of hardship, perhaps of sufiering, of want; vice perpetually 
before his eyes to imitate; passions stimulated, without a 
controlling hand or a guardian counsellor ; his moral facul- 
ties distorted; his better feelings blunted by ill usage; 
habits, associations, low and vulgar ; perhaps his language 
full of profanity, his mind equally full of impurity. Why 
was not the lawyer more explicit ? But I will write to him 
before I decide.” Hereupon, he rose and walked to the 
window, as ,he added : “ It would never do to place such a 
boy in the position.” , 

While the Doctor was thus forming a conjectural estimate 
of the young student, Trenk, in turn, was making up no 
exalted opinion of the venerable President. He had received 
him kindly, to be sure, but had dismissed him rather coldly ; 
nor could he perceive any object accomplished in the inter- 
view. Boys are apt to suppose great people are always 
saying or doing something wonderful. But his lucubrations 


22 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


were cut short by another student, who approached full of 
envy at the unwonted honor done Trenk in a personal 
conversation vouchsafed to him by the Doctor. 

“So you have been, old chap, to see the Prex? What 
did he say ?” 

“Not much,” Trenk answered. ^ 

“W'ell, then, what did you say?” 

“Not much.” 

“ By all the gods of Demosthenes and Cicero, you must 
have bottled up your eloquence on both sides. Did you use 
the dumb alphabet ? W'hat did he want with you ?” 

“ That is more than I know,” said Trenk, decidedly. 

“ Then what did you want with him ?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Look here, old fellow,” the student exclaimed, in a 
suppressed <age, “ if you are going to come the Sphynx 
dodge over me, I will apply some leather motive-power, for 
which I have a sole agency, to the posterior side of your 
pantaloons.” 

“ May be you had better exhibit your engine, instead of 
advertising only,” retorted Trenk, in no amiable mood. 

“ Well, I don’t care if I do,” cried the student, at the same 
time kicking Trenk on the ankle. Nathan held down both 
hands to rub his foot, for the blow was severe, while tears 
started in his eyes, ^hereupon his antagonist, perceiving 
no resistance was made, gave him another kick. “Take 
that,” said he; “and may be you ^vill feel better to- 
morrow.” 

Although the freshman was much larger than Trenk, he 
did not hesitate, after the second insult, to defend himself. 
He threw down his hat, leisurely drew off his coat, and 
untied his neck ribbon. Thereupon, not waiting for a 


THE METROPOLITES. 


23 


parley, he squared himself for a fight. His enemy stood 
astonished at this unexpected demonstration ; but before he 
could speak, Trenk struck him full in the right eye, and as 
the student swerved, he planted another blow on his nose, 
which caused the blood to flow profusely. He attempted to 
seize Trenk, who stepped back to avoid the grasp, and 
again struck him under the jaw, when the student turned to 
run. Hereupon Trenk administered a kick that sent the 
retreating party on his face to the ground, with Trenk on 
top kicking and striking, till he was pulled ofiT, foaming with 
rage, by those who had run up to see the fight. 

Doctor Sempronius had observed the whole afiair from his 
parlor window, and instantly sent a servant to part the com- 
batants. The servant, however, came up too late for that 
purpose, but spread consternation by the announcement that 
the President had been a witness of the encounter. 

“ You will be expelled,” said a little village Hampden. 

“Rusticated, at least,” added an inglorious Milton, by 
way of amendment. 

“It’s mean to strike after a fellow’s down,” shouted a 
future Patrick Henry, as Trenk tied on his ribbon and 
walked off, putting an arm in his coat. 

On the next day the matter was most formally and offi- 
cially reported to the President, with all the facts distorted, 
in which it was made to appear that Trenk was the wanton 
aggressor. Again he was sent for, and asked by the Doctor 
what he had to say for himself. Nathan gave a manly, true 
version of the afiair, but apologized for having punished the 
boy, even in self-defence. To the President’s surprise, he 
added : “ I know it was wrong to fight him, but my pain 
was great and my blood was up. Perhaps when I am older 
I will be more able to control myself.” 


24 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Yet you say you were insulted ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I was insulted ; but I do not expect to fight for 
every insult.” 

“ What would you do then ?” 

“ I would act like a gentleman if I knew how, and hope I 
shall learn.” 

“ You should rather act like a Christian.” 

“ That is the same thing. Doctor.” 

“ But Christians do not fight, my son.” 

“ People calling themselves Christians may not fight ; but 
that does not make them Christians.” 

“ I am afraid, very much afraid, your religious instruction 
has been neglected.” 

“ It may be so, but it was the only education for which I 
was praised by her, or which seemed to give her pleasure.” 

“Then you have not been without friends?” 

To this remark Trenk made no reply. After a moment’s 
silence, the Doctor asked : “ Have you been treated with kind- 
ness and attention ?” 

Trenk did not answer, keeping his eyes fixed on the carpet. 

“ My son,” the Doctor resumed, “ I witnessed the unfortu- 
nate affair. Your whole conduct then, as well as the present 
conversation, meets my approbation. Many wrongs, many 
insults must be suffered, to be forgiven and forgotten. But 
do not estimate them therefore otherwise than as insults and 
wrongs. You are right ; a Christian and a gentleman are the 
same. To be one you must be the other. You gave the boy 
a thrashing which he deserved, and as no bones are broken, 
all will soon be mended.” 

Trenk was beset, as he left the Doctor’s parlor, with 
inquiries as to the result. Was he “to be expelled,” “sus- 
pended,” “ rusticated,” “ admonished,” “ or what ?” To all 


THE METROPOLITES. 


25 


these questions he made no reply, but at last he stopped, shut 
his fist, pushed his hat back on his head, and exclaimed : “ I 

tell you what it is, fellows, I don’t know what will be done ; 
but this I do know, that the Doctor is a gentleman.” 

Three cheers “ and a tiger” were given for this speech, 
when a boy Newton cried : “ Where do you bury your dead ?” 

“ I will do it by contract,” said the village Hampden ; 
while the young Milton remarked : 

“He’s going to apply to Congress for a quarter section of 
public lands for a private graveyard.” 

At length Trenk reached his room, surprised, bewildered, 
and confused, with the recent events. Could he believe his 
own ears, that the Doctor approved his fighting, which was 
done in hot blood; his disrespectful language before him 
under his great excitement; and, above all, that both his 
conduct and conversation were those of a gentleman ? He 
thought he had perceived that the Doctor’s eye slightly 
sparkled as he narrated the incidents of the fight, and that 
he gave a gentle, approving nod of his head when Nathan 
declared his intention to act like a gentleman under all cii- 
cumstances. But Trenk blushed ; blushed crimson, when he 
remembered his boisterous manner and bravado language. 
He blushed also when he remembered the fight, vowing that 
he would never strike another blow. But, above all, he went 
to sleep with the agreeable thought that he would willingly 
spend all his days in the service of Doctor Sempronius, and 
lay down his life for him with pleasiure. 


26 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


CHAPTER m. 

The fight with Maclin had made Trenk famous in college. 
It had given him notoriety in the classes above his own ; it 
had made his face familiar even to the seniors. The ushers 
and professors noticed when he touched his hat to them. 
His timid, retiring, almost bashful deportment only caused 
him to be the more observed, as it was evident he was 
ashamed of the exploit, although all were aware of the true 
version of the story ; and above all that Doctor Sempronius 
had dismissed him from his study without a reprimand. Of 
course, if the Doctor thought Trenk was right, everybody 
thought the same ; “ for, did not the Doctor see it h ims elf?” 
The President was a consummate tactician ; he knew the stu- 
dents would side with Trenk, and he knew he had made 
Trenk a friend for life by frankly admitting that he had not 
done wrong. It was good policy; it was. good common 
sense in the Doctor ; and, as he revolved it in his venerable 
mind, he was satisfied under every aspect it was right. 
Those only who are popular can properly govern the world — 
or a college. 

Soon after this event another summons came from the 
President to call at his study whenever he was at leisure. On 
entering, Trenk found the venerable Doctor reading a letter 
he seemed to be perusing with much attention, as he scarcely 
noticed his presence. 

“ My son,” said he, laying down the epistle, “ this letter 
which I have received to-day from Mr. Parker about you, 
relieves my mind of many doubts I had respecting your for- 
mer education and training. I wish to introduce you into 
my family, if it be agreeable to you. In doing so, let me 


THE METROPOLITES. 


27 


assure you I have a good opinion of your principles and of 
your habits. Your manners have yet to be formed, and 1 will 
assist you in that, if you wish to become a gentleman.” He 
proceeded to explain he had two boys about twelve years of 
^age under his . charge, whom he was anxious to perfect in 
some of the modern languages, and therefore desired Trenk 
to take the direction of that branch of their education ; to 
become one of his family, while he pursued his studies in the 
college. ~ 

This proposition, with all the explanations and details, was 
joyfully with much gratifpde accepted by Trenk, who could 
scarce find a few words to intimate his willingness, as big 
tears came into his beaming eyes, and a thick phlegm in his 
throat almost checked his utterance. The Doctor took hnn 
by the hand, and led him through several apartments into a 
small parlor called the music room, where a young lady 
about Trenk’s age was practising on the piano. 

“ Mary, my child,” said the President, addressing her, “ I 
have brought with me the young gentleman who is to go 
over the French lessons with the /boys, and till they come in, 
you may give him a little instruction in music.” Then turning 
to Trenk, he added : “ I will now leave you to take your own 
course, as you can form an opinion of them in your own 
way.” 

As the Doctor departed, the young lady turned round on 
the music stool, without any embarrassment, to open the con- 
versation. 

“I think my uncle, who has just left without mentioning 
your name, does not imagine I have made much progress in 
my music lessons.” 

“I am called Nathan Trenk,” he answered. 

“ Oh ! I beg your pardon, I have heard your name before ; 


28 


THE METROPOLITES. 


but as uncle did not mention it, I do not know if he intended 
what lie said to pass for an introduction.” 

“ He wished you to teach me music,” said Trenk, smiling. 

“ I hope you are better qualified to teach French ; for in 
sober earnest I am making sad work on this piano.” 

“ What is the cause of that ?” 

“Well, I don’t know, unless it is no one seems interested 
in what I play, and I am sure it is dull enough to me.” 

“ Perhaps as you progress your uncle will be better pleased 
with your performance.” 

“Fond as my uncle is of music, he does not encourage my 
efibrts. Perhaps he thinks I will never excel, and therefore 
it is time thrown away.” 

“ I could form a better opinion if I had the pleasure of 
listening to some of your pieces.” 

“ With all my heart,” said she, turning over the leaves of 
her music-book, and, began. It did not take long for Trenk 
to discover her defects in voice and execution, but at the 
same time to perceive she had musical talents above the com- 
mon order. 

“No wonder. Miss Mary, you dislike your music; for it is 
very bad. If you were to commence again on a different 
system, I think in a very short time you would not consider 
it a dull work. Let me show you.” Hereupon Trenk seated 
himself at the instrument, and commenced some of' his 
favorite airs. 

Mary stood almost spell-bound in admiration at the young 
])erformer, as he gave form and expression, beauty and sweet 
melody to pieces which heretofore she had quite detested. 
Trenk proceeded playing and singing till he found himself 
engaged in some new, beautiful, and fashionable gems from 
the latest operas, to the infinite delight and rapture of his 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


29 


fair listener. Then changing his manner and style, he 
placed his foot firmly on the pedal and began a popular song 
from the Ethiopian minstrels. He observed at this instant 
the entrance of the boys. 

When he had finished and rose from the piano, Mary 
called to them to come and be introduced to their new 
teacher. 

“A new teacher of music ?” inquired one. 

“ To be siy'e,” said Mary ; “ how could he know anything 
else r 

“ I am glad of it,” answered the youth ; “ now I’ll learn 
all the nigger songs, and to play on the bones.” 

“ Then you wish to learn music,” said Trenk. 

“ Yes, indeed. I wish I could play like you ; I’d give any- 
thing to know how. I’d give a hundred dollars, I would.” 

“ Well, my good fellow, you shall learn, although I did not 
come to teach you.” 

The boys looked disappointed at this announcement, and 
he added : “ I have come to talk French, but never mind ; 
we will learn music first, then the bones, next the banjo, then 
the tamborine, and next the French.” 

The youths shouted with delight at this assurance of the 
happy times coming. And they all became the best of 
friends forthwith. Trenk gave them a few more choice 
' compositions of a Southern aspect, of the “ Away down in 
Alabama” manufactory. 

Under these favorable auspices he became an inmate of 
the family of Doctor Sempronius. It is almost needless to 
add, in a short time the boys and Mary had made such 
progress in languages and music as to give' to him the 
greatest pleasure and satisfaction. The Doctor gradually 
warmed to the homeless young teacher who had made him- 


80 


THE METROPOLITES. - 


self SO much beloved by the young people ; for he naturally 
supposed the influence Trenk had over them would have 
the most beneficial eflect on their studies. Trenk himself 
was for the first time in his strange life in constant 
association with refined, intellectual persons ; meeting with 
kindness and consideration he had never experienced; but 
which, from his sensitive, grateful heart, was the more appre- 
ciated. His first care seemed to him to win the approbation 
of Doctor Sempronius, for all other pleasures ji^ere trivial to 
him in comparison with this ; and it was in the exact per- 
formance of his duties that this approbation was to be ob- 
tained. He had already secured the intimate friendship of 
Mary and the youths with whom he passed almost all his hours 
of reci'eation ; while his studies were prosecuted with the ut- 
most diligence and success. It seemed he could find in the 
attention shown by the Doctor, in his friendly counsels and 
advice, a true barometer to the degree of regard the venera- 
ble President entertained for him. Whenever his collegiate 
studies did not intervene, Trenk’s thoughts were directed to 
pleasing, and at the same time instructing, the young people. 
ISTor was the venerable President unobservant of the young 
student ; for he approvingly nodded his head, as he said 
to his aged sister : “ What a prize I have gained in him !” 
The young student had also his solitary thoughts to comfoid 
him, as he renumbered o’er the many benefits derived from 
the Doctor ; and, in the moments when he dwelt on his present 
happiness and progress, he, too, murmured : “ What a prize 1 
have found in that great and good old man !” 

As time wore on, the circle of Trenk’s acquaintance 
enlarged. He was introduced to many agreeable people in 
the city, through his intimacy with the family of Doctor 
Sempronius. In addition to these was one more at a comitry 


THE METROPOLITES. 


31 


villa, beyond the city limits, near tbe sea-shore, where the 
bathing was excellent, and where dwelt the rich, retired 
banker, the Honorable Mr. Dryvis. Why he was called the 
“ Honorable,” was not easy to comprehend, as he never held 
an office, and consequently had not passed through the moral 
and personal degradation, now so common, on the railroad 
track to popular honors. Why, therefore, Mr. Dryvis should 
have his name thus veneered to make it respectable as that 
of other quiet gentlemen without the suspicious prefix, was a 
mystery, and remains a mystery even unto this day. But 
such was the fact. The Honorable Mr. Dryvis, of Druid- 
oaks, flourished in retirement at his country villa, as he had 
formerly flourished in Europe as a banker. He had returned 
to this spot, in his own country, for some reasons of financial 
policy difficult to understand ; not because he was silent as 
to his motives, but for the opposite reason — that he told so 
many different and irreconcilable stories on the subject. The 
Honorable Mr. Dryvis Tvas an industrious man, even in his 
seclusion. From his voluminous correspondence, both do- 
mestic and foreign ; from the files of newspapers, with other 
documents, that daily littered his business room, it was 
e\ddent he had not entirely weaned himself from the cares 
or vanities of this world. In truth, his time was now as 
much occupied as it had ever been in Threadneedle street, 
or at the Bourse, in Paris. He hii:I been heard to say 
the duties he owed to his young family induced him to 
quit active life. But this was a species of indebtedness on 
wliich liquidation could be postponed without any official 
protest ; for it was suffered to lie over — at least so far as the 
Honorable Mr. Dryvis was concerned. But his wife, 
English by birth and education, and of one of the oldest 
families of the gentry, on the contrary, relieved her husband 


32 


THE METROPOLITES. 


of this important task ; that is to say, she always talked 
about the education of her children to any chance visitor 
who might call. But in the absence of any visitor, she lay 
in bed all day reading novels. 

A governess, whom they had brought with them from 
England, acted as a sort of first lieutenant to this female 
commander, doing all that ought to have been done by 
her, but leaving all the rigmarole conversation and credit 
to the mother, brought to bed with the last new novel. 
This governess was somewhat under thirty, with a great 
degree of beauty, a highly finished education, and rare good 
common sense. She had seen much of society, where her 
varied accomplishments were sufficiently admired to make 
her feel perfectly at her ease in the company in which she 
was now thrown, although some of the most refined and 
intellectual of the country. Winning in her manners, with 
an easy flow of conversation, graceful in her movements, 
and always cheerful, even to the verge of kindness. Miss 
Howard shed rays of sunshine on the family circle at the 
Druidoaks. One young daughter of the Honorable Mr. 
Dryvis, of the age of fourteen, was her especial charge ; 
although a little boy of seven, and a still younger girl of five 
years, reported to her for duty in the absence of the com- 
mander-in-chief, who was on special service, flourishing a 
paper-cutter over a new publication. 

It must not be supposed the novel-reading lady was defi- 
cient in good sense, or in personal activity in her movements, 
if the occasion required their exercise, or when the whim 
seized her. Paradoxical as it may seem, it was on profound 
reflection she was convinced the most profitable and pleasant 
mode of passing her time was reading in bed. She knew 
what was requisite in the education of children but that she 


THE METROPOLITES. 


88 


was incapable from her temperament to control or manage 
them. She knew that Miss Howard had the very qualities 
in which she was deficient. 

But when the little folks were ill, then the scene changed. 
Miss Howard was helpless. Then the .novels were laid 
aside, while the lady herself performed /to perfection the 
duties of a nurse and of a kind, considerate parent. In ordi- 
nary times, the intercourse between the lady and Miss 
Howard was of the most agreeable kind, as Mrs. Dryvis was 
an adept in collecting amusing dishes of gossip, which she 
poured into the ears of the governess, flavored with a species 
of wit and indescribable humor irresistibly amusing. It was 
enough for her that Miss Howard was a good listener ; it 
was enough for the governess nothing more was required of 
her than to listen. Perhaps had she been called on to 
furnish any of the entertainment, the happy understanding 
would have been broken, as Miss Howard’s excursions in 
search of gossip or scandal had neither been far nor frequent 
with fast people. Ho two ladies could be more opposite in 
their modes of thinking ; but no two ladies could love each 
other more, for both would have been unhappy were they 
separated. The methodical, quiet manner and habit of 
acting of the governess supplied all the deficiencies of the 
head' of the household ; and in return, the lady afibrded to 
Miss Howard all the amusement, society, and friendship she 
‘seemed to care for. 

Trenk first became acquainted at the Druidoaks, where he 
lad gone as an escort to Mary and the boys in paying an 
evening visit. The Honorable Mr. Dryvis was busy writing 
letters in his room, and his conjugal consort was in bed deep 
in the story of a novel. But Miss Howard received and 
lavished on them all the kindness and attention with which 

2 * 


34 


THE METROPOLITES. 


she knew how, in her quiet, easy, and graceful manner, to 
make young people happy ; and the children of both families 
seemed to think a sweet charm was around all the amuse- 
ments she provided. 

The impression the young student made upon the governess 
was great. She had watched his every movement in the 
care and solicitude evinced that the boys should exhibit their 
accomplishments to advantage, and at the same time enjoy 
themselves to the utmost. Their music displayed the results 
of careful training, guided with excellent taste ; and in their 
French pronunciation she perceived the purest accent and 
highly creditable proficiency. On further acquaintance with 
him, and having heard through others of his early history. 
Miss Howard not only became a great admirer, but a good 
friend, and finally counsellor of the young man. His visits 
to the Druidoaks were frequent ; and in due time, through 
the daily reports of the governess, he became well known, 
along with his merits, to Mrs. Dryvis. 

This lady had long wished for such a person, although 
without any hopes of meeting with one. It was requisite 
her daughter should dance a little different from the style of 
her instructor, and should hear some other music than that 
of the governess. Trenk was the very person to aid Miss 
Howard, and consequently his visits to the \illa were 
encouraged. But it was not altogether a selfish motive in 
the lady ; for in truth she had become interested in him, 
wanting to serve him, if it were in her power. She wished 
always to have some pet, and being at this time tired of one 
on hand, she was well disposed to substitute the young 
teacher. 

The Honorable Mr. Dryvis could scarcely be said to be a 
party consulted in this arrangement, as he never met the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


35 


yoiing man except at dinner, where he paid him only the 
civility due to a student visiting his children ; and so soon as 
he quit the table he dismissed all thoughts of him from his 
financial intellect. The Hon. Mr. Drjwis would never have 
known anything more of him, had not Trenk been seated at 
the lady’s bedside one Sunday when the banker entered the 
apartment. Trenk was in the habit of passing some hours 
of Saturday and all of every Sunday with the Druids ; and 
it pleased the novel-reading Norma to accord him a seat at 
her bedside, while she extracted from him such inci- 
dents of his former life as, by any species of torture, she 
could thumb-screw out of him. This was not much, but it 
served to heighten her curiosity and interest. On stories 
connected with the opera, ballet, and theatres, of prime 
donne, sylphids, and managers, he was a prodigious mine of 
new material from the coulisses. He had not, in reality, 
much to teU ; and tha^ of the most harmless character. But 
with her experience and fancy, she could imagine trains of 
circumstances and incidents to make his innocent talk the 
basis for the richest scandal to amuse Miss Howard and 
cause her to blush. In return, she charmed the young man 
with stories or descriptions of English life and manners, as 
he was anxious to learn the habits and style of conversation 
in the most refined British circles. Had she been his 
mother, she could not have been more careful in imparting 
interesting lessons, and instructing him in what it was 
requisite for a young gentleman to know. 

Between them, therefore, an intimate friendship sprang up, 
making him at all times a welcome visitor. And if by 
chance he failed to appear on Saturday, a servant Avas sent 
to inquire the reason why “Cousin Nathan,” as the lady 
now began to call him, did not come. The governess and 


86 


THE METROPOLITES. 


children were not long in according to hiin the appellation 
bestowed by the mother; and many visitors were mistaken 
in supposing him to be a relative and inmate of the family. 

But the governess was his great favorite. It might be 
said he was slightly in love with her ; which she soon per- 
ceived, without being displeased thereat. They took the 
longest walks ; had the most extended conversations ; 
exchanged their opinions, feelings, and thoughts on all kinds 
of people and all manner of subjects. To please her he 
would have perpetrated any extravagance ; and to please her 
he had avoided a great deal of folly that young men most 
naturally fall into. He patiently endured her advice ; and, 
what was still more afflicting, he bore without wincing her 
criticisms on his dress, music, conversation, manners, and 
aspirations. His love and his admiration for her acted like 
chloroform, in rendering him iftsensible to the pain her 
comments, under other circumstances, would sometimes have 
inflicted. Wanted, at all times, a sensible young lady to 
remove boyish conceits before a moustache has sprouted. 


CHAPTER ly. 

It may well be supposed the young student made himself 
useful at the Druidoaks. He fully realized the expectations 
of the mother as to the value of his assistance in the educa- • 
tion and accomplishments of her children. Their music, 
dancing, and conversation in various languages were much 
improved by his presence ; for he gave new life and interest 
to what had heretofore been looked upon only as tasks by 
the young people. Miss Howard was in many respects 


THE METROPOLITES. 


87 


superior to Trenk in her acquirements, and thus gave a 
finish to his otherwise defective education. She excelled 
him in a correct knowledge of languages, and was his equal 
in music and other accomplishments. But an indescribable 
novelty, a grace, a style were in his performances, highly 
attractive to the childi’en, that induced them to learn with 
greater zeal and success. 

The two boys and Mary also became constant visitors with 
him at the villa, where they joined the children in their 
dancing lessons under the joint instruction of the governess 
and Trenk. It was not kno^vn whether the President, Sem- 
pronius, approved of this branch of the fine arts, as it was 
never indulged in at his residence. But when Trenk alluded 
to their waltzing at the Druidoaks, the Doctor did not seem 
to disapprove of the pastime, only remarking that among 
children it was a graceful*and healthy exercise. With this 
almost negative acquiescence, Trenk was satisfied he was not 
doing much violence to the worthy man’s opinions in teach- 
ing them. 

In the summer vacations, Kathan took the boys with him 
in his fishing and sailing excursions along the coast. He 
was on excellent terms with many fishermen, and usually 
engaged a skilful one of these with his sail-boat to accom- 
pany them. From this class of seamen Trenk acquired not 
only a fondness for the water, but also practical instruction 
in navigating small craft, so that in a short time he was an 
excellent sailor in an emergency or in any kind of weather. 
With the two boys to assist him, he deemed himself com- 
petent to man an oyster sloop, and had only been prevented 
clearing for a fishing cruise by the ‘timely admonition of the 
Doctor, that there might not be perfect safety in an enter- 
prise without some old and experienced hand on board. 


38 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Trenk, however, was ambitious of possessing a small yacht of 
his own, and had looked forward with many pleasing anti- 
cipations to the time when his funds would justify this outlay. 
He had counted all the cost, and had long financial and 
nautical cabinet councils with some half-dozen of old salts, 
who initiated him into all the mysteries of their calling, to 
whom he referred all his doubtful maritime questions. In 
two years, therefore, after entering college he was considered 
an expert sailor, equal in handling small craft to some of 
the best in the neighborhood. 

It may be as well to take a look into the state of the young 
man’s finances before proceeding further in any enterprise he 
had in contemplation. When the first vacation arrived, 
Trenk was agreeably surprised by an announcement from 
the Doctor that enough of money was to his credit for any 
excursion he might have in view» The Doctor informed him- 
that the sum of $500 was sent from Hew York to defray his 
annual expenses. But, as he had undertaken the tuition of 
the boys, the Doctor, in consideration of his services, and 
with the approbation of their parents, determined to pay for 
him whatever was due to the college treasurer. Conse- 
quently nearly the whole amount was at his disposal, as no 
charge was made for his boarding, which was included as 
part of his compensation. Thus Trenk found himself at the 
end of the second year in the possession of ample means to 
undertake long and distant fishing voyages without making 
heavy inroads on his funds. 

He called Miss Howard into his counsels on money matters, 
and, as she was his confidential adviser on other subjects, he 
wisely determined to ask her to become his banker. The 
governess, without any hesitation, agreed to this proposal ; 
when Trenk placed in her hands seven hundred dollars for 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


39 


'which he had no immediate use, and, most remarkable young 
man, he had escaped that sting to college follies — he had no 
debts to pay! That Miss Howard was his banker was a 
fact only known to themselves ; and, as all questions of 
appropriation of money were submitted to her, he became 
cautious in his expenditures, withal systematic in keeping his 
accounts. 

The Honorable Mr. Dryvis was the master of one of d;he 
most celebrated yachts which annually visited Newport. 
But the Honorable Mr. Dryvis was not thereby one of the 
best sailors that entered for the cup at the regattas. He was 
in truth no sailor at all; keeping only the Bonanza, as he kept 
carriage and horses, as part of his luxurious establishment. 
He entertained friends on board most sumptuously — friends 
whom he could only secure by this kind of attention ; and if 
he were supposed to make ^ figure in the fashionable world, 
it was only, as he knew, that he might thereby make another 
corresponding figure in his cash ledger. The Bonanza was 
to the banker what a full brass band is to an enterprising 
hotel, an expensive attraction that brings customers. Euro- 
pean bankers and American tavern-keepers, to be sure, are 
of the same tribe of Israelites, or Ishmaelites, or Sybarites, 
with the same manners, tastes, and ambitions at heart, but 
modified in externals to suit circumstances. Successful 
American landlords will soon become the leading bankers 
on the continent, and the broken-down bankers of Europe 
will make most capital hotel proprietors in American cities. 
It is not requisite to pursue the resemblance further, especially 
as it would only be the expression of truisms which must 
have occurred to every traveller in both hemispheres. 

The Bonanza was an expensive item in the private ac- 
counts of the Honorable Mr. Dryvis, and one he was 


40 


THE METROPOLITES. 


most solicitous to reduce; as he vainly surmised he had 
not the worth of his money, with the acidulated opinion 
thereunto annexed that he was cheated on all sides by his 
crew. Although very methodical in keeping the books of the 
Bonanza, with her small boats and yawls, still he was not 
deeply versed in the prices and the uses of articles constantly 
required, to know how to check his naval bills coming in for 
supplies furnished to his small armada. He had to trust to 
the honesty of others, and surely the Hon. Mr. Dryvis knew 
that he himself had never taken honesty as a collateral secu- 
rity in any other business transactions, when he was perfect 
in the details. He did not wish, however, to give up the 
ship ; but most devoutly prayed he might be informed how 
her expenses could be diminished, and, above all, that he 
should not be cheated. 

He sent for an old sailor who had run a small craft for 
some years, and questioned him closely about the expenses 
of navigation in general, and about yachts in particular. 
But the old salt knew too little about accounts on a large 
scale to afford him much satisfaction. Other knowing ones 
were also consulted with similar failures, some of them 
insinuating that the banker was working a traverse to suit 
himself and to catch them, “ for he knew what he was after, 
if nobody else did.” One ancient mariner, slightly indig- 
nant he should be pumped, hinted he had better consult his 
nephew, and another soon after muttered something «*)bout 
“ a nephew that knows well enough.” A third, when closely 
cross-questioned on the price and quantity of paint, felt 
insulted outright that a full grown man should be asked 
such nonsense, and told him to send for his nephew. The 
banker, supposing that applying to a nephew was a nautical 
phrase not very complimentary in its significance, told the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


41 


man to hold his tongue if he could not give a civil answer. 
The sailor opened his eyes and mouth in astonishment, to ask 
the banker what he meant. 

“ You know I have no nephew, and I want none of your 
sea slang.” 

“ I think your nephew could tell you as well as any one 
of us,” the man doggedly muttered. 

“ But I tell you I have no nephew. Who do you all 
allude to, if you refer to any one, in telling me about my 
nephew ?” 

“ Why, to young Mr. Trenk, to be sure,” said the old tar ; 
“ your little son always calls him Cousin Nathan.” 

“ So, so ; to Mr. Trenk, my nephew ; that’s it. What does 
he know about yachts and sail-boats ?” 

“ More than any one you have ever yet had in your em- 
ploy ; and it does seem strange you should ask us such simple 
questions when he could tell you quite as well.” 

A new light broke in upon the mind of the banker ; the 
nephew, then, was not a nautical myth, but only a misnomer 
of the quiet, unobtrusive boy-student, whom he had never 
thought it incumbent on him to notice. Now, many might 
suppose that the pride of the Honorable Mr. Dryvis would 
revolt at the thought of calling on a student stripling to help 
him out of a dilRculty in his affairs ; and besides, prudence 
would check him in incurring an obligation to one who 
might very soon call upon him for some favor in return. 
But the banker was not troubled in his mind with such con- 
siderations. On the contrary, Trenk was the very kind of 
person he most readily would apply to and the most impli- 
citly trust. Boys are not mercenary, and therefore he had 
no apprehension of the student’s aj^propriating or misap- 
plying the funds intended for the yacht; while his zeal 


42 


THE METROPOLITES. 


and energy, in matters from which pleasure was to be 
expected, no one would doubt. That Trenk was a fatherless 
boy, without family ties or connexions, without any expecta- 
tions, dependent upon himself and on any good fortune that 
by chance should fall in his way, for any success in life, was 
rather a recommendation than otherwise to the Honorable 
Mr. Dryvis. It was by no slow, methodical, calculating pro- 
cess of reasoning the banker arrived at this business conclu- 
sion in regard to the student. His mind was made up so 
soon as he had heard him extolled. In the banker’s long 
mental catalogue of numerous acquaintances, he had already 
placed the student under a heading which strictly was not 
even in the catalogue proper, but rather in the appendix or apo- 
crjq)ha, and on the very last page of that, among the “ waifs.” 

The waifs' on land are numerous as shipwrecks on the sea. 
Honor, riches, position, influence, principle, are being 
perpetually stranded on life’s stormy ocean ; and the pieces 
strewed along the margins of respectability often present 
some precious but damaged parcel, to be picked up or 
discarded, as fancy may impel the finder of such treasure 
trove. These waifs are the perpetual sport and terror, by 
turns, of bankers; sometimes appropriated and brushed up 
to suit a particular occasion, to be started adrift again when 
no longer wanted ; sometimes palmed upon them as valuable, 
and found costly in the possession ; but at all times to be 
used according to circumstances. In Mr. Dryvis’s view poor 
Trenk was one of 4hese — ^not deserving consideration, not 
worthy of contempt, but useful withal to the children, and 
therefore to be used without pity, hate, or affection. The 
banker could even be kind to him — nay, have some warm 
feebngs, if it chimed in with his purpose, for it would cost 
nothing. Such was the general altitude of the student in 


THE METROPOLITES. 


43 


tlie mental measurement by the Honorable Mr. Dryvis. His 
usefulness in the children’s education, however, and the 
pleasure his company afforded his wife, had so far put him 
ill the list to be noticed with some little attention. His 
reputed knowledge of nautical matters still further advanced 
him in the banker’s good graces. Therefore he was in the 
best of humors with Trenk, and, for being so, he would have 
thought the boy very ungrateful if he did not thank him in 
his heart. This genuine kindness throbbing in the banker’s 
bosom would have become an uncomfortable feeling if an 
opportunity had not soon offered to let it gush forth. He 
availed himself of Trenk’s next visit, while he was teaching 
the son and little daughter a new waltzing step, to enter the 
parlor. The Honorable Mr. Dryvis thanked him in the most 
gracious terms for his attention to his little folks, as a great 
kindness he highly appreciated ; and hoped he would not 
spend so many leisure hours on such small children. He 
then turned the conversation, to inquire about his progress 
in college, his standing in his class, and other topics, till his 
face beamed with amiability, and his words flattering as ever 
fell from the lady or governess. He even went so far as to 
propose an excursion in the Bonanza to the young people of 
both families, and that he would join them himself. Trenk 
listened with much interest to the seductive banker, and was 
delighted to be thus noticed in a quarter so unexpected. He 
felt, however, he deserved what was said in his favor, and 
was not, therefore, embarrassed. His M-ank and 0|)en, but 
respectful, manner struck the banker favorably. On one 
point, however, he was disappointed. Trenk declined his 
invitation to take a sail on the Bonanza ; nor could many 
persuasive arguments induce him to altei^his mind. He 
assigned no particular reason for this strange determination ; 


44 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


and when the banker became pressing in his solicitations, 
Trenk subsided into complete silence, making no reply 
whatever. 

The Honorable Mr. Dryvis was therefore disconcerted in 
finding himself at fault in a matter where he thought no 
difficulty could be imagined. But he resolved on trying 
another tack to find out Trenk’s motive for declining his 
kind offer. On consultation with his wife, who laid down a 
new novel for the moment, he came to the conclusion that 
Miss Howard was the proper person to manage the young 
student, and the governess was accordingly summoned. Miss 
Howard had been surprised at Trenk’s declining the invita- 
tion, and now her curiosity was aroused to find out the cause, 
especially as he had so often confessed to her his passion for 
a good sailing yacht. 

She soon found Trenk, who was at the piano poring over 
some new music on her entrance. 

“I have come. Cousin Hathan,” said she, with a bewitch- 
ing smile, “ to thank you for spoiling our excursion on the 
water.” 

“ Is that all ?” Trenk replied, as he turned over the music 
leaves. 

“ That all ! What do you mean by refusing the invitation 
on the Bonanza ?” 

“ I mean to say I will not take the boys on that yacht, for 
it would give me no pleasure.” 

“ You said as much before, but not quite so blunt. You 
seem to have some antipathy to the Bonanza. She is no 
woman, to run away with you.” 

“ She might do worse — she might drown me.” 

“ Drown yoll, my bold sailor boy ! I thought you were 
more courageous.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


45 


“ I am not,” Trenk answered, as lie ran his fingers over 
the keys of the instrument, to close further conversation 
a(bout the Bonanza. 

“ Cousin jN’athan, I wish you to listen to me for one mo- 
ment seriously,” said Miss Howard, as she took a seat at his 
side, with her hack to the piano. “ Mr. Dryvis has of late 
evinced much kindness to you, and I do not wish you, for 
many reasons, to be insensible to it. Your refusal of his 
invitation may displease him, if you have no good motive. 
Now have you any excuse for declining — tell me?” 

“ I am sensible of his kindness,” Trenk answered ; “ but 
as my opinion of the yacht might displease him, I did not 
wish to give any.” 

“ Then tell it to me in confidence,” eagerly exclaimed the 
governess. 

“ Certainly I will, in confidence. The Bonanza is not sea- 
worthy, and therefore I do not think her safe for the boys. 
She is not A 1.” 

“ What is A 1 ?” asked the governess. 

“ I do not know myself ; but all hands along shore say so.” 

“Mr. Dryvis will then have to make her A 1.” 

“ I am afraid he cannot,” said Trenk. 

“But you remarked, cousin Nathan, that the Bonanza 
was not seaworthy. What makes you think so ?” 

“She is sloop-rigged, and in a gale of wind would run 
under. I was told that before I went on board, and now I 
know it. Let her be caught ofi* the cape out yonder in a 
sudden blow, and she is gone.” 

“ Has any one ever informed Mr. Dryvis of this ?” 

“ I think not. She was built for New York harbor, and the 
Sound, and the Hudson ; but not for this }^rt of the coast, 
nor for the open sea.” ’ * 


46 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“I heard something about the yacht,” the governess 
remarked, ‘Sin some way discreditable; but I never under- 
stood it before.” 

“Yes! That was the story about the drag-chain put 
under her centre-board to prevent her fast sailing.” 

“ What was the object of that, Nathan ?” 

“ The Bonanza once had another name, and was built for 
fast sailing. On a public trial of her speed, they put the drag- 
chain under her, so as to make sporting gentlemen beheve 
she could not take the cup in a regatta. The fancy, there- 
fore, bet heavily against her, and were taken in. But before 
the regatta came off the trick was discovered ; the yacht 
was ruled out, and could never be entered since. She was 
therefore sold.” 

“ That was cheating, to be sure ; but it does not affect her 
sailing.” 

“ It does not affect her sailing in a fair wind, as 
her name implies; but she was not built to weather a 
storm.” 

“I think Mr. Dryvis ought to know this,” said Miss 
Howard. 

“ Mr. Dryvis can easily know it from twenty ’longshore- 
men, if he will only ask them.” 

“ What do they know about this yacht ?” 

“ They know every yacht as well as I do,” said Trenk. 

“As well as you do. Cousin Nathan?” 

“Yes, as well as I do, for we talk of nothing else, espe- 
cially when a regatta is announced.” 

The clever governess was not dilatory in putting the 
Honorable Mr. Dryvis on the way of finding out all the 
defects of the bonanza. The ’longshoremen spoke their 
minds very freely to the banker, and the banker formed even 


THE METKOPOLITES. 47 

a worse opinion of his yacht than would have been enter- 
tained at a marine insurance office. 


CHAPTER Y. 

The Honorable Mr. Dryvis soon learned that the Bonanza 
was an unfortunate investment. But it would be some satis- 
* faction to the banker to know how he had been cheated, as a 
vexatious suspicion is a more disagreeable state of mind 
than a knowledge of facts changing it into a certainty. He 
therefore proposed to Trenk to overhaul tlie management 
of the yacht, and to audit anew the expenses for the last 
season. The student consented to lend his assistance for 
this purpose, provided he could prevail on the governess to 
aid him in the undertaking. Miss Howard smiled at this 
condition, as she was not familiar with such matters, but 
cheerfully acquiesced. 

In a few days Trenk,- with his female cliief clerk, went 
over all the items of the Bonanza’s expenses, and took an 
account of stock of articles still unused. He was therefore 
enabled to draw up a statement so clear and exact, that the 
banker was surprised at the extent to which he had been 
plundered, but was much pleased to find one so young who 
could elucidate a business heretofore so confused. At once 
he took Trenk into his full confidence respecting the yacht, 
and in the most flattering terms asked the young man for his 
advice in the complication of difficulties. Trenk, in his usual 
quiet but frank manner, stated his opinion to the banker, 
advising him by all means to sell the Bonanza forthwith ; 
for it was yet early in the summer. 


48 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Now to sell an expensive luxury at a moment’s notice, it is 
well known, is as difficult as it is extravagant to keep it. 
The Honorable Mr. Dryvis was well aware of this ; but, with 
tact and caution, he knew how to dispose of the yacht in 
New York at a small sacrifice. He wrote to another banker, 
ostensibly a correspondent only, but privately a partner in 
fact, and the sale was effected. How the sale was effected 
by the most approved course of commercial dealings in such 
articles, a few words will explain. It was casually mentioned 
at a dinner party one day in the metropolis that the Honora- 
ble Mr. Dryvis was about returning to Europe, breaking up 
his luxurious establishment at the Druidoaks ; and at table 
it was hinted some fine horses, cattle, pictures, -wines, and a 
beautiful yacht would be sold in a short time. The yacht 
was mentioned incidentally as a gem for sailing, the fleetest 
craft on the coast. It was wondered why the banker would 
sell her at all. But it was whispered he knew nothing about 
salt water, and was indifferent to regattas. It required, no 
doubt, courage in his correspondent to speak thus of the rich 
banker. But it may be surmised the dinner was got up, 
and guests invited, with special reference to a disposal of the 
Bonanza. Therefore the banker was underrated in order to 
over-estimate the Bonanza. One gentleman in particular, IMr. 
Smooth, was flattered by an invitation to the feast. It was 
an unwonted compliment, to put him in a good humor with 
himself and all mankind. 

Many years after, Mr. Smooth sometimes narrated with 
much complacency how it happened he purchased the 
beauty. How he had been down town in the morning ; how 
he counted on Broadway the red flags, and “ Beware-of- 
mock-auction” placards, as he drove back ; how he heard 
an organ-grinder discoursing street-music, which recalled his 


THE :^[ETR0P0L1TES. 


49 


infancy, and the nursery song of “ Will you walk into my 
parlor said the spider to the fly ?” how he laughed at a story 
he heard of a country giid wanting to purchase “a mock- 
turtle shell comb — ^the real mock?” how he wondered if a 
new dodge of a mock-auction — a real mock of some kind — 
would not take, and take in the most knowing, ending with 
a description of the dinner in Balshazzar Place. 

Then Mr. Smooth would most minutely branch off into 
the tedious details of the subsequent disaster, but these need 
not now be repeated. Everybody read the “ extras” issued 
by the newspapers at the time, headed : “ Capsize of a yacht 
in the Lower Bay. All hands on board drowned. Probable 
loss of a nurse and two little children. A mother’s agony. 
Five hundi'ed dollars reward oftered for any information 
respecting the fate of the children.” 

But to return to the Druidoaks. The Honorable Mr, 
Dryvis, being thus bereaved of his lovely Bonanza by the sale 
to Mr. Smooth, looked around in his inconsolable deprivation 
for another to supply the void in his affections. Taking the 
governess and Trenk with him, he went to N’ewport ; for 
the vacation had commenced in college. A regatta was 
spoken of; the waters of Newport and Nahant would soon 
be alive with sailing craft and sea serpents. The banker, 
however, had no intention ostensibly of investing in any 
more shipping. He said he had enough of it, and the 
fashionable world believed him. But somehow the fashiona- 
ble world, flir-famed for wisdom, took it into their sagacious 
heads that his rich nephew, who was with him, had a great 
l^lethora of bank bills perpetually welling out from his watch 
fob, and that all the pumpmg, both night and day, with 
his thumb and forefinger • would never get under the leak 
of this immense volume of fifty dollar notes. 

3 


50 


THE METROPOLITES. 


It was soon perceived this young gentleman — a very fast, 
very handsome, very quiet fellow, who waltzed better than a 
dancing master, who sang most beautifully with a piano 
accompaniment, to show off his large diamond finger-ring — 
affected the salt water pursuits of Christopher Columbus, 
coming to Newport as a sort of Palos in search of a vessel 
to bear him and his fortunes on to conquest and glory. Yet 
one fact was looked upon as odd in the youth ; he was so 
tied to the apron-string of his English cousin, that he would 
take no sailing excursions without her. Invitations, however, 
to all the yachts flowed in upon them thick and fast, which 
were right cheerfully acc^ted. Jolly times were had on 
board when they went. The two cousins were pleased with 
everything, admired ever^^hing, enchanted everybody. But 
still the young, quiet, but fast young gentleman, made no 
proposals to purchase. Possibly he was frightened, as quite a 
number of beautiful craft that he seemed to fancy did not 
please their owners, who spoke very disrespectfully but confi- 
dentially to him about their property, and for one reason or 
other wanted to sell to build others ; something was wrong 
about the jib, or too heavy or too light in the spars, too 
deep in the water, or not sharp enough for fast sailing, or 
too large, or too small, or schooner-rigged, or sloop-rigged ; 
in short, nobody was pleased with his yacht. But still they 
confessed that in the club they stood high, and were un- 
doubtedly splendid for any one who “liked that sort of 
thing.” One of the greatest pleasures of yachting seems to 
be the constant desire to build or alter. 

Nathan Trenk made his own observations on every yacht 
he visited, and gave the results of his surveys to Miss 
Howard, who generally agreed with him. Two or three 
fine vessels attracted his admiration in particular, one of 


THE METROPOLITES. 


51 


which could be purchased ; but he did not make an offer to 
the owner. The others exhibited to him for sale he got rid 
of by inquiring “the figure” wanted for them, and then 
quietly declaring the price “ topped his pile.'*'* The exact 
columnar altitude of a young man’s ingots is not generally 
discovered until he has passed through the alembic of a few 
sporting seasons. The Jim Crack, however, was the one he 
had set his heart upon, and which the banker and governess 
were anxious for him to purchase. But the Jim Crack 
was one of the largest and most expensive schoonei-s in the 
market; insomuch that the owner, or rather owners, de- 
spaired of effecting a sale after Trenk’s figurative financial 
statement. It is true the phrase “ topping a pile” in money 
matters is an imaginary unknown quantity. Topping a 
pile is more brief than a bank exhibit supported by the 
affidavit of a cashier ; but, b^ing as lucid and reliable, may 
be very properly entitled to as much respect. 

The managing owner of the Jim Crack, in a friendly con- 
versation with Nathan over the after-dinner wine and 
walnuts, regretted that the price of the yacht was found too 
high for the student’s mark, as he knew the vessel could be 
had at a bargain. 

“ What do you call a bargain ?” Trenk inquired. 

“ Twelve thousand dollars,” was the reply. 

“ I never intend,ed to purchase at that figure.” 

“ What, then, is your limit, Mr. Trenk ?” 

“I have no limit, nor am I certain I shall purchase at 
all.” 

“Would you entertain a proposition if I offered her for a 
few thousand less ? The owners are anxious to sell, and will 
do so at a sacrifice.” 

Trenk replied he wished to know the lowest sum in the 


52 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


morning, and he would then consult the banker before 
coming to a decision. 

Finally, the Jim Crack was purchased by the Honorable 
Mr. Dryvis at a bargain ; and in due time it became appa- 
rent the young snob, with the large diamond ring on his 
finger and nabob uncle at his elbow, and stylish English 
cousin on his arm, knew how to navigate the schooner in any 
Avind or in any state of the tides and weather. 

But it created no slight sensation at Newport when it was 
known that Mr. Trenk, the rich, quiet, handsome, but fast 
young gentleman, who waltzed better than a dancing master, 
and sang songs and played on the piano divinely, had pur- 
chased the Jim Crack. It was all the talk that evening, at 
one of the largest and gayest hops of the season. Trenk 
was there, and his cousin Miss Howard, and his uncle the 
Honorable Mr. Dryvis, all in the most amiable of moods 
How Cousin Nathan did waltz with the pretty ladies, and 
how Cousin Nathan did sing the most plaintive, sweetest 
airs in the music-room, until the young girls almost drowned 
him with tears, and until the matrons wanted to smother 
him with kisses. Did not Miss Howard enjoy all this? 
Did she not remember who assisted in making him equal to 
this exhibition ? And did she not perceive that her influence 
and guidance enabled him to bear his honors thick but 
meekly on him? Cousin Nathan, too, the poor orphan out- 
cast, forgot not his position in that fascinating, fashionable 
croAvd. He was not carried away by the compliments and 
admiration lavished upon him ; but rising as he ended one of 
Moore’s melodies, and almost blushing at the notice he had 
attracted, left the room. A buzz of approbation was heard, 
almost swelling into loud applause, in that gay assemblage, 
at the pleasure his presence and performance had given. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


53 


That evening will be long remembered by many as one of 
the happiest scenes at this summer resort. 

Trenk’s thoughts, however, were soon far away to the 
newly-purchased yacht. That was the mistress of his 
affections, where his leisure moments were engaged. The 
regatta was soon to come off, while the vacation still lasted, 
where the Jim Crack was entered, and where the young 
gentleman, with the consent of the Honorable Mr. Dryv is, 
intended to exhibit his nautical science to bear off the prize. 
He put himself and the yacht in training for the event, try- 
ing the Jim Crack on every tack, in eveiy state of the tides, 
wdth the banker, governess, and children on board ; sailing 
over the racing ground frequently, and by and with the 
advice and experience of the coasting salts, becoming fami- 
liar with the currents, eddies, rocks, tides, and other local 
information essential to success. 

But Trenk became convinced his yacht was not destined 
to win the palm, as she wanted some improvements to make 
her perfect. He stated the case fairly to the banker, who 
smiled at Hathan’s confidence in his own opinion ; but urged 
the young student stdl to try his best. The regatta came 
off with the result Hathan anticipated. The Jim Crack was 
handled to admiration, under a tolerable fair wind. The 
backers of the yacht among the betting gentlemen were 
delighted with her, as she came out much ahead of their 
calculations, although not first in the race, and consequently 
all won who laid wagers properly on her. With the ut- 
most complacency they pocketed their winnings, and compli- 
mented the banker on the qualities of the yacht and the 
skill of the sailing-master. 

The Honorable Mr. Dryvis, Miss Howard, and the children 
had gone on board a steamboat along with a select party to 


54 


THE METROPOLITES. 


witness the race. The day was clear, the wind fair, and the 
weather charming. The al^servations made by the knowing 
ones around the banker put him in the best spirits and in 
the best possible humor with Trenk. Everybody admitted 
he was a capital sailor; and everybody could not believe 
it possible one so young, so fond of dancing and music, such 
a pet of the ladies, could be so perfect in navigating the Jim 
Crack. 

A succession of entertainments consequently followed on 
board the yacht, at which the banker presided, assisted by Miss 
Howard, to take care of the ladies, where Nathan attended 
to everybody. A great many persons thereby, from New 
York and other places, became agreeable, valuable acquaint- 
ances, whom he was destined to meet hereafter. The people 
whom you know in yachting circles are generally those 
whose intimacy you can cultivate with safety elsewhere. 

Thus ended the season at Newport. The banker and his 
family returned to Druidoaks. Trenk went back to his boys 
and to college. The young student had now gained for 
himself a prominent place in the notice of the banker. 
Many would have supposed the Honorable Mr. Dryvis enter- 
tained for him unbounded esteem, a solicitous regard for his 
welfare. In fact he considered himself the yoimg man’s 
generous benefactor upon the strength of Nathan’s becoming 
invaluable to him as a companion and instructor of his 
children, as well as a pleasing, useful associate in dispensing 
the hospitalities to the distinguished and even foreign visit- 
ors, who were guests at the villa. K Trenk deemed himself 
under a mountain of obligations to the banker, he was by 
no means prodigal in the manifestations of concern for this 
^Vlpine load upon his shoulders. He was not alarmed at the 
impending weight pressing him into insignificance. Gra- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


55 


titude at least is seldom a disquieting emotion, and, like tlie 
misfortunes of friends, is borne with much calm, complacent 
philosophy. But Nathan was not conscious of much grati- 
tude being due. It is well known that an instinct in infants 
enables them to discover their true friends, and this instinct 
clings longer to children whose fate has made their spring- 
- time of life unfortunate and unhappy. Tender sensibilities 
only expand in the warm atmosphere of kindness and in 
gentle nurture, while the sunshine of his boyhood had been 
perpetually dimmed by the rough usage he had met with in 
his constant associations with persons of no kindred ties and 
affections for him. It is true his material wants had been 
well supplied. But the hand of gentleness never smoothed his 
little pillow, nor the eye of sorrowing maternal pity beamed 
upon his fever or fitful slumbers. Trenk had sometimes 
met with attention, and more especially a careful considera- 
tion for his wants and interests ; but the beaming smile, the 
reflex of overflowing tenderness of the heart, had rarely been 
his lot. It was therefore in his nature to detect the coimter- 
feit of disinterested friendship, however thick might be the 
gilding, or however wealthy the hand by which it was 
bestowed. Lideed, a certain philosopher-stone has not yet 
been found whereby the cheap copper currency of compli- 
ments, the small change of social intercourse, can be trans- 
muted into the bright, pure, golden coin of truth. 

He did not consequently cling with youthful generosity to 
this rich benefactor, nor did he trust that inconsiderate indis- 
cretions would be overlooked or pardoned. But he was 
fascinated with the society in which he was thrown at the 
villa ; he was slightly in boyish love with the governess, and 
had a world of aflection for the novel-reading matron of the 
establishment. Quiet as he was in temperament, cautious 


56 


THE METROPOLITES. 


from habit and from the peculiarity of his position, he was 
constantly observant of what was proper under all circum- 
stances. He was picking up the crumbs of refinement in 
maimers, language, taste and thought, and opinions which 
fell from the educated people around him, and in time he 
accumulated a store equal to the possessions of those whom 
he was accustomed to view as his superiors. 

But he had another source of pleasure, of real happiness 
within himself, untold to any one save to the governess, his 
general confidant. However attractive might be the society 
at the villa, with its brilliant conversation, and however 
agreeable the interviews with Doctor Sempronius, yet he 
knew the time was coming when he would leave all these for 
other scenes and other company. And he longed to be out 
upon these other scenes, to take part in the battle of life ; 
and he had already determined in what profession he would 
be found. He would be a lawyer, and one of a high order 
for talents, learning, and eloquence^ It may be the affection 
he had for Walter Parker first decided him to choose that 
vocation ; but in time he became ardent in his aspirations, 
and longed to commence his legal studies. 

This bent of mind saved him from becoming an indolent 
voluptuary, a fawning sycophant among the delightful people 
with whom he associated. He was naturally independent in 
disposition, self-reliant, and, above all, the place upon his 
cranium usually assigned to the bump of veneration, was 
marked by a slight indentation, denoting the absence of that 
organ. Doctor Sempronius knew what his aspirations were ; 
he knew also every trait of character he possessed. When, 
therefore, the young student intimated to the venerable 
President that a certain branch of collegiate learning would 
be useless to him hereafter in his profession, and another 


THE METROPOLITES. 


67 


sciencfe could not help him as an orator, and another text- 
book would be ignored in his law studies, the Doctor re- 
plied : “ You are wrong, my good fellow ; learn all, learn 
everything now ; its utility will be discovered hereafter. 
You must gain mental strength by the equal exercise of all 
your intellectual faculties, and then you can the more easily 
excel in any one science. In training gladiators for the 
arena they were not taught the sword exercise alone, but to 
run, to leap, to walk, and hurl massive stones; all the 
muscles were put in play, and all were equally vigorous.” 

“ But, Doctor, that was in ancient times, when martial 
training was more severe than now.” 

“ Be it so, my son ; well, then, ask the first recruiting- 
sergeant of the American army if he wiU enlist a strapping 
young man who is an excellent marksman, without taking 
an inspection of the teeth, fingers, toes, and veins of his legs.” 

“It may be so,” Trenk replied; “but such is the adhe- 
rence to precedent, habits, and customs, that we see very few 
great original minds free from the trammels of routine who 
could correct all this, for it ought to be corrected.” 

“Wrong again, my good fellow; the world is not in need 
of what you call great original minds; great strength of 
faculties will create originality in their exercise, and strike 
out new modes of thinking and acting. Proper originality 
is only improvement on the past, as correct theory is always 
founded on ])ractice, or as imagination upon memory. Learn 
3very thing, for you will find the use of it when you become 
a lawyer; and when you study law, do not discard any 
kind of law-learning as old and useless, or, in yt)ur wisdom, 
because it is nonsense. No, no, my son ; have a great 
reverence for musty parchment, snuff* the odors of black 
letter-type with all the love you bear for the perfumes of 

3 * 


58 


THE METROPOLITES. 


‘ Jockey Club,’ and wi’ap yourself thick in the dusty cobwebs 
of your profession. It may be disagreeable and dirty 
work: apprentices are set at disagreeable and dirty work. 
When you have gained intellectual strength from your 
constant mental exercise in kicking and striking the anti- 
quated legal meshes, perhaps you may grub yourself out to a 
higher flight. Remember, what the world thinks right, 
generally is right. A yoimg man ought to try to find out the 
reason for the belief, instead of striving to run counter to the 
world. A reverence for all things at twenty, often makes a 
great man at forty. But one of your original minds in youth 
remains an original for life, a fool or confirmed oddity at fifty.” 

The reverend Doctor convinced the student that his 
immature intellectual culture stood in need of more artificial 
development in the regions round about the cerebral organ 
of veneration. Henceforth Hathan endeavored to discover 
the utility of all text-books ; he no longer underrated their 
value. In entering the fashionable circle of the villa, he 
conformed more rigidly to the etiquette and usages of 
society. He entertained a much more humble opinion of 
his own wisdom. 


CHAPTER YI. 

Four years at length rolled round with their changes, 
noted in the preceding chapters. Walter Parker had in 
some respects changed also. He was, however, the same in 
stature, being diminutive in size, with small feet and hands, 
of which he was quite vain. In his dress he would have 
been a fop, had his taste corresponded with his wishes. After 


THE METROPOLITES. 


59 


several failures with the most expensive clothes, he wisely 
gave up the attempt to rival some young friends whose culti- 
vation of external appearance far outshone his abortive 
efforts. He therefore, in a short time, subsided into a neat, 
dapper little somebody, w^hose dress was always fashionable, 
hut never the subject of especial notice. Poor Walter could 
never understand why his costume was not admired equally 
with that of some others whose intellects were none of the 
brightest — especially as his wardrobe cost as much. But 
that same intellect of his was the very obstacle in the way 
of success in fashionable externals. Walter wdshed to dress 
W'ell, but his wishes could not call up a little fairy to gratify 
him without he knew the incantation by which she was to be 
invoked. Had he spent sleepless nights in meditating on 
colors, shirt-frills, neck-ties, perfumes, hair-dressing, gloves, 
and shoe-leather ; had he awaked td devote days to the con- 
templation of his complexion and figure in a large mirror ; 
and had he observed for months the style of other gentlemen 
who had the reputation of leaders in the art, perhaps he 
would have learned the spell so few really possess. 

Walter hastily concluded he could gratify his fashionable 
aspirations with the same ease that old Mother Hubbard 
provided for the wants of that poor dog, so well known in 
history. He went to the tailors to buy a fine coat, and when 
he came back he was as much disappointed with it as the 
celebrated old dame having the empty larder. Had he 
studied the moral of that nursery tale, he would have known 
money may be squandered without pleasing any one — your- 
self included. 

But a new style of habiliments about this time came into 
notice — a style which Walter could not applaud. Instead of 
the cassimeres, broadcloths, and other fabrics delicately 


60 


THE METROPOLITES. 


woven, horse-blanket goods and Indian Mackinaw woollens 
of the roughest patterns seemed to be adopted by the popu- 
lar taste for the street, for morning calls, and even for little 
entertainments in the evening. It looked as if grooms, por- 
ters, cartmen, and grocers, and car-drivers, and coachmen had 
invaded the most unexceptionable parlors; and with the 
advent of their livery, it was surmised, with some truth, they 
brought corresponding bad manners. To render the illusion 
complete, some of these exclusives were sons or grandsons 
of tradesmen ; and as the family features were inherited with 
the family fortunes, the shop lounge, the coach-box swagger, 
or the hostler shuffle, came along with the paternal coat and 
countenance, bearing the same striking resemblance to their 
progenitors which a Durham calf bears to a Durham cow — 
a little more clean and glossy, but withal shagged, rough, 
and ungraceful. ^ 

A fine coat may conceal or draw off attention from coarse 
lineaments, and tone down vulgar eccentricities in deport- 
ment ; but a gross sack-covering on the shoulders, and bag- 
shaped garments on the legs, draw out ancestral instincts 
suggestive of oats, bran, chopped corn, and condiments to 
feed animals. In truth, municipal regulations were soon re- 
quired compelling car-conductors, policemen, porters, and 
hack-drivers to exhibit a badge, to obviate confusion in dis- 
criminating between plebeians and rich men’s plebeian heirs 
affecting the patrician, while wearing clothes their forefathei'S 
might have worn in their humble avocations. Clumsy boots 
now walked into drawing-rooms in appropriate fellowship 
with black finger-nails ; and hands innocent of intercourse 
with soap and water, revealed their blood as belonging to the 
great unwashed. 

The fault with Walter was that his leisure moments were 


THE METROPOLITES. 


61 


not devoted to meditations on dress, but to other mental 
exercises of a higher order, imparting more pleasure. He 
had read much of all kinds of literature ; indeed, too much 
for proper legal training. And now, instead of turning over 
law maxims in his brain, he was inclined to call to memory 
choice extracts in prose and in poetry — to ruminate upon 
them, to admire them, or to try to improve them by some 
new reading. He had occasionally produced a few verses of 
his own composition, which his worthy uncle, in his lifetime, 
read with grim satisfaction, declaring “ they were not good 
enough ever to spoil him for the law.” Walter took the 
hint from this compliment, and, like another celebrated light 
of the profession, bade farewell to his muse; that is, he 
divorced himself from her so far as to put her on a separate 
maintenance, and his uncle rejoiced thereat. But yet Walter 
would often return to his first love. His library up town, 
well filled with literature, especially poetry, was one of his 
great attractions. He spent his evenings in sight of his 
books, even when he did not read ; for he had some mis- 
givings of conscience whenever he touched them. 

He had also been cautioned by his uncle about his loqua- 
city, as an impediment to success in business. Walter re- 
ceived this advice in the spirit in which it was given ; and, 
after due reflection, came to the conclusion the senior coun- 
sellor was right in the matter. Yet bis mother encouraged 
him in it, until talking had become a confirmed habit. To 
reform this foible was difficult, almost impossible ; but, with 
a strong will, he efiected it partially. He was cautious, 
among men of business, to put a check on his tongue ; to in- 
dulge, however, when he was among intimate friends. 

Walter Parker was ambitious to become an orator; nor 
would he have been averse to the fame of a poet. The fates. 


62 


THE METROPOLITES. 


however, had made him a lawyer, and his pride would not 
permit him to be content with a low standing in his profes- 
sion. He therefore was attentive to his business, and most 
careful and laborious in the preparation of his cases. He had 
hopes of becoming an able advocate, which his few short 
speeches at the bar flattered, although they had flillen far 
short of the mark in his own estimation. This was a favora- 
ble omen. His father had died many years ago, when Wal- 
ter was quite young, and he had lived with his widowed 
mother alone since the decease of his maternal uncle. The 
fondness of his surviving parent had done much to form his 
character, both foF good traits and for defects. She had 
been a devoted wife, with a great admiration for the talents 
of her husband; and she saw in Walter not only a personal 
resemblance, but the same cast of intellect as his father’s. 
Hence she had encouraged him in talking, being always 
pleased with whatever he might say. At the same time she 
made his home so charming that his most agreeable evenings 
were spent in her company in their spacious house near 
Union Square. But in order to make her society attractive 
to her son, Mrs. Parker was not unmindful of the tastes 
which yoimg people possess, and which they expect to be 
gratified, as well as having their personal comforts provided 
for. She was fond ot music, and often complimented for her 
voice and execution on the guitar and piano. • Her musical 
parties were always attractive to many who had no admira- 
tion for these entertainments of only one uniform musical 
sauce, for she very considerately had other pleasures in store 
for her guests. Hence Walter had a large circle of agreeable 
acquaintances, and was on the most intimate footing with 
many of the young beauties of the best society. Yet some- 
thing uncongenial was in his manner towards the fair sex. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


63 


His conversation might * be witty and original, but a latent 
vein of cynicism made them slightly fear him. He was kind, 
polite, and agreeable; but still, softness of feeling, which 
ladies expect, was wanting — and its absence they so readily 
detect. His brilliant imagination and utmost self-composure 
went far to make him one of the most polite, but also a very 
impudent, young gentleman. He seemed to care but little 
for any attentions which might be bestowed on him; nor was 
he more sensitive as to the favorable reception with which 
his attentions were received by ladies. If he had preferences 
among them they were unknown, and it was sagely imagined 
that those who appreciated his conversation, in all probability 
had his greatest respect, without any regard to their other 
merits. A public favorite has seldom any private fnends, and 
that was Walter Parker’s position in his gay world up town. 

Four years, it has been said above, had passed away since 
Walter sat in the outer office with Harry Chester. It was now 
late in autumn, with Walter once more seated in the inner room 
of the same office, having just co*me down town, after breakfast. 
He had not made up his mind how he should begin the labors 
of the day, as he was not yet in good working harness aVtfer 
his late hours at a brilliant reception last night. He is think- 
ing over the many things, the impertinent things, the fantasti- 
cal things, the witty things, he had perpetrated in his 
sprightly sayings in the agreeable evening. From this 
revery he was roused by a knock at the door, and in walked 
a well dressed, handsome, tall, and slim young man, hat in 
hand, with right glove off with whicli to caress his beaver, as 
if expecting a cordial welcome. The self-possession of the 
intruder was only equalled by his easy grace of manner, 
while the sweet smile that played on his lip, still in inffint 
innocence of a downy moustache, served as an excuse to 


THE ilETROPOLTTES. 


M 

display Ins beautiful teeth in all their whiteness and regular- 
ity. It might be doubtful if the curling-tongs had not this 
morning passed through his dark-browi^hair, from the sym- 
metrical but seemingly careless wave of the short curls. No 
perfmne, in fact, was upon his person ; but a sort of memory 
of departed essences clung round his presence, so slight and 
yet so pleasant as to be indefinable. Not much profusion of 
trinkets or other jewelry was upon him, although a signet- 
ring graced his finger, and a gem in the head of a fragile 
cane was occasionally tapped against his teeth. His clothes 
were in keeping with the fancy articles with which he was 
adorned, being in excellent fit, color, and taste. 

Walter had fully made these observations before any 
recollection of the face of his young \dsitor dawned upon 
his memory. His look of uncertainty caused the young man 
to exclaim : “ Mr. Parker, do you not know me ?” 

“Not know you!” answered Walter, with a sudden recol- 
lection flashing through his mind ; “ not know you ! Tunc — 
Trenk — ^by all that is beautiful and snobbish ! Come to my 
arms, my pretty humming-bird, even if I do take off some of 
the down;” and they threw themselves into each other’s 
embrace. 

“And now teU me,” said Walter, “where you have come 
from, how you have been, and what is to become of you. I 
know you have graduated at college with high honors, and 
all that sort of thing. But who ever heard before of a plod- 
ding scholar going through a course of mathematical chalk, 
chemistry and charcpal, differential calculus, conic sections, 
and slate pencils, to the tune of ‘ I’d be a Butterfly ?’ Why, 
my charming fellow, this is not the toggery you wore down 
among the dead men of antiquity. As the advertisements 
say, you are ‘got up regardless of expense.’ ” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


It would be impossible to describe the pleasurable sensa- 
tions this kind welcome on the part of Walter produce'd in 
his young visitor. At first with difficulty he suppressed the 
tears welling up into his eyes, which were visibly moistened 
at the cordial greeting ; but other thoughts were awakened 
as Walter poured forth with volubility his questions, in the 
same style that Tunc loved to remember in years gone by. 
Ah ! it is seldom we return to a friend after a long absence 
to find him the same as we delighted in our reminiscences to 
picture him. This, however, was Nathan’s happy lot; nor 
can any event in life impart more happiness. 

Walter Parker perceived, under his young friend’s quiet 
exterior, still the same deep feeling, and along with it a lurk- 
ing vein of fun, that made him relish kindness, even when 
expressed in sprightly badinage. He had heard of Trenk’s 
high position and honors, won in a very large class distin- 
guished for talents, industry, and acquirements. He had ex- 
pected him to return a most conceited and disagreeable 
fledgling, neither man nor boy, but hateful to both men and 
boys ; throwing off youthful associations without having as 
yet acquired manly habits; with ideas and opinions the most 
intolerant in themselves, and consequently with vanity, con- 
ceit, and manners the most intolerable to all others. One 
glance, however, enabled Parker to rightly estimate his 
character, without waiting for the expression of his opinions. 
He thought, most naturally, of the forlorn condition of the 
young man, with the mystery still hanging over his birth and 
parentage. But now was not the time to talk seriously on 
that subject ; although Parker felt it incumbent on him to 
make some allusion to the past. 

“ No tidings yet, Tunc, of your venerable father, who must 
long to clasp you to his bosom ?” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“I have heard nothing further since I left New York, as 
you remember, of my parents ; nor do I intend to make any 
search for them. I leave that knowledge to fate and to time. 
1 am afraid I shall never know.” 

“Surely, some one must have information which would 
give you a clue to discovery.” 

To this Trenk made no reply, as he slowly smoothed his 
hat with his glove. 

“ Is it possible that any one can be so cruel as to keep you 
in ignorance in a matter of so much moment ?” 

Still no answer came from the yoirng man. 

“ I would demand of them to tell me all, even if I had to 
clap a pistol to their heads,” said Parker, with some excite- 
ment. 

Trenk raised his eyes, meeting his gaze, and calmly re- 
marked : “ This is a subject I may tflink much upon, but it is 
one on which I do not wish ever to converse. My birth and 
parents are as much a mystery to me as to you. But I am 
afraid I shall never have it explained. Perhaps it is for the 
best, or at least I will try to believe so.” 

“ Is it, then, disagreeable to hear any allusion to it ?” 

“Not from you, Mr. Parker. You can make yoiur own 
comments on the matter ; but I cannot join in them.” 

“ I had supposed it possible that it might be painful.” 

“Not in the least.” 

“ But, my dear fellow, to have it said that you are with- 
out parentage, illegitimate, perhaps, will atfect your position 
in the world, and consequently your happiness.” 

“ I have thought of that. I have yet to gain a position 
with, first of all, some success in ray profession. If the world 
are to form their estimate of me from the circumstance of 
my birth, I am without any motive for action or exertion. 


THE METROPOLITES. 67 

But I hope for the best, and believe I will have friends if I 
make myself worthy of them.” 

“ Spoken like a hero — ^like an orator from the Pew'ter Mug 
at a mass meeting. It is sublime, rather lofty; hut ground 
and lofty speeches, you know, don’t pay, except at the 
Bowery Theatre. Pray tell me w'hat profession do you adorn, 
or what is it to be ?” 

“ I intend to he a lawyer.” 

“A lawyer !” Parker exclaimed, in astonishment. “You 
had better look over all the trades in the city directory, and 
choose some one of them before starting on the hopeless path 
of a lawyer. Try buffalo-hunting on the prairies, or another 
light occupation. Do not bury yourself in the city. Inter- 
mural interments are forbidden by law, and the alarming 
invasion of crowding sinners, poor and seedy counsellors 
from ruraldom, brings lawyers within the equity of the sta- 
tute. Ko^ my boy; go to some new country to grow up 
with it, which, to be sure, requires years of vegetation. But 
when you are a rich, respectable esculent, winning golden 
pippin opinions from all sorts of small potatoes in agricultu- 
ral fairs, you may provide for the winter and move to this 
necropolis ; not before. ‘ Perpetrate folly at the end of life, 
not at the outset,’ saith the new version of the proverbs.” 

“ Some succeed in the profession, Mr. Parker. » They tell 
me you are very successful.” 

“ But I did not make myself. My uncle, my father, were 
advocates, and I have come into their business. But you 
have not even a friend, an outsider, to help you. What do 
you say to that ?” 

“ Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” quoted Xathan, 
“ Let me first be admitted to the bar.” 

But how are you to live in the meantime ?” 


68 


THE METROPOLITES. 


To this question Trenk made no answer. 

“Well, it is strange,” continued Walter, in half soliloquy. 
“ I wish I could find this place where some people, without a 
father’s check-book to feed them like young robins, can dig 
up gold to pay current expenses. I wonder where mother 
earth keeps her pocket ? No father, no mother, no friends — • 
but yet in funds. Pray tell me. Tunc, what institution do 
you bless and beautify with your bank account ?” 

“ I am afraid extravagance will equal my income, to leave 
no balance on hand.” 

“ Then you have an income ? lam glad of that. As for 
friends, they will increase in number, they will swarm into a 
pestilence, if you are one of the Wall street firm of Tubal 
Cain and Company, dealing in the precious and ponderous 
minerals. Under these circumstances, you can safely study 
a profession, and you shall have my paternal benediction in 
starting.” 

Trenk smiled in silence, as he rose to take his leave.. 

“ Come,” said Walter, “I am not to be got rid of so soon. 
You must dine with me this evening, and here is my 
address.” 

“I am grateful for your kindness,” Nathan replied, press- 
ing Walter’s hand, “ and hope I have a friend in you — for I 
need one.” 

“ That you have, my good fellow — especially since you 
have money. But stay ! Hold on a minute — I have some- 
thing more to say. Now, what is it about?” putting his 
finger on his nose in a thoughtful mood ; then, raising his 
head, added: “Oh, now I have it. It was about a young 
fellow of your name, Trenk — yes, Trenk — who periodically 
is to be seen down the coast, olf Newport and Nahant, like 
the sea-serpent, and seems to produce as great sensation. 


TnE METROPOLITES. 


69 


Some of my friends speak of him as an acquaiotance of theirs. 
He is young and handsome, rich, English, stylish, and fast 
filling a private female cemetery ; for he is, they say, certain 
death among the young ladies. How, what I was going to 
observe is this : Being of the same name, which is not a com 
mon one, and from abroad, perhaps he might give you some 
ancestral information. In fact, that mortality he is said to 
create among crinoline has such a family resemblance to your 
worthy father’s weakness, in the Lothario line of business, 
that I would not wonder if you were descended from the 
same stock. Who knows ? Perhaps this young Briton, 
born on the other side of the ocean, may find in you a rela- 
tive born on the other side of the blanket.” 

Hathan resumed his seat while Walter was imparting 
this unexpected information. He felt inclined to laugh out- 
right at the complimentary allusion to his yachting excur- 
sions, which he supposed were unknown to Parker. But, on 
a moment’s reflection, he doubted whether it was not told 
seriously. Walter, perceiving his perplexity, but not under- 
standing the cause, continued : 

“I have picked up all I could learn about this cockney, 
and, from the accounts, he is cutting it rather fat for so young 
a chap ; fast horses, expensive feeds, fHes champHres^ to say 
nothing of champagne punch, boat-racing and regattas ; and 
for repose, by way of seclusion and solitude to refresh him- 
self, little private suppers, ending in a quiet game of 
poker, without limit in the betting. Then, again, he has the 
best of tipple in his rooms, the most expensive cigars in the 
side-i)ocket of his shooting-jacket, handles a billiard-cue to 
perfection, and can make ten strikes on the pins all day long. 
But I need not tell you more ; dogs, guns, yachts, horses, 
and so forth, especially the so forth, will do much in a short 


70 


THE METROPOLITES. 


time to make a young man popular as a prime minister ; 
moreover, I may add they will soon give truth to his virtuous 
epitaph : ‘ And he died poor.’ ” 

Trenk listened in amazement to this caricature, nor was 
he less astonished when he perceived that Parker was not 
jesting ; for it was evident he -believed all that he said 
without the least suspicion the college boy before him had, 
in his visits, furnished the material for this fanciful sketch. 

“From whom, may I ask, Mr. Parker, did yoT;i receive 
this wonderful story ?” 

“The story is not at all wonderful; it is an every-day 
affair. But this snob has been running the thing into the 
ground, and therefore is more talked about. From all ac- 
counts, he must have been coming it rather athletic. But see 
here, I will show you his picture in print.” 

“In print!” exclaimed Nathan, starting in terror from his 
seat. 

“Yes, in print,” answered Walter, opening a drawer and 
taking out a bundle of miscellaneous memoranda, from which 
he extracted a portion of a newspaper neatly labelled. “ Here 
is the letter of a special correspondent to one of our dailies 
from Newport, which I laid aside to send to you, had I 
not forgotten the matter. You may read it for yourself, as 
it is a pretty fair photograph from a fashionable correspond- 
ent. Somehow these newspapers are always ahead in furnish- 
ing us with the pictures of great people before they grace 
the rogues’ gallery of the detective police.” 

Nathan eagerly seized the slip of newspaper and read as 
follows: 

“The fascinating young Englishman, whom I mentioned 
in my last, has left us. He weighed anchor at flood-tide this 


THE METROPOLITES. 


71 


morning, and with his rich uncle the banker, and chamiing 
cousins on board, set sail for this season. Beneath the thick 
aristocratic crust of his national reserve, there was much 
frankness and good feeling in his manners. His English 
hauteur, wdth moustache and imperial, at first were prejudi- 
cial to his favorable reception among the gentlemen. But in 
time these were overcome, and before he left, all were his 
friends. I happened to see him frequently in a few select 
circles, and therefore, sub-^'osa^ I can write knowingly about 
him. His coming abroad at all was owdng to a slight 
disagreement mth his paterfamilias on a literary question. 
The old governor entered him at All Souls College at 
Oxford; but about the same time, his club of ‘whole 
souls’ entered a three-year-old at the Derby for the sweep- 
stakes. The gown had to give way to the gaiters, and the 
spirited young fellow threw aside all books, except his 
betting-book. In that, unfortunately, were found, after the 
race, some awful figures on the wrong horse ; he lost a pot 
of money and had come to grief. As he could not come 
to time on settling day, he had to cut and run for it. This is 
the reason he took a new line of country. They say in 
sporting circles his rich banker-uncle will make it all right 
on the Derby, if he will only marry his cousin, to whom he 
is very attentive. In the meantime he has been able to 
raise plenty of funds from some friends at home, but he 
don’t say from whom. The story of the yacht being palmed 
off upon him at four times its value is a canard. He had 
to take it or get nothing ; as debts of honor, if not paid 
promptly, can only be collected at twenty paces ; that is the 
statute distance — ^the statute of limitations in such cases. 
As I am the first to instruct the natives here in the know- 
ledge of letters, I remain, &c. Cadmus.” 


72 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


As Nathan folded up the paper and handed it back, 
Walter remarked: “A nice young man truly for a small 
party ! You ought, however, to see him, as he is of a liberal 
turn of mind, and might enlighten you. There is such 
worldly keenness withal about his libertinism and prodigality 
that he must be clever as well as highly accomplished. Ilis 
extravagance is a species of insanity, with yet a method in 
his madness. By all means see him if you can. He is not 
yet through his peccadillos, when his peck of troubles will 
commence.” 

Before Trenk could reply, the door was opened by some 
one on business, and as Nathan took his departure, he 
recognized the gentleman entering as an acquaintance whom 
he had seen at the Druidoaks. Hastily shaking hands with 
him, he passed on to the street. 


CHAPTER YH. 

About an hour after the interview mentioned above, 
Walter Parker was walking slowly up and down his rooms 
in a very thoughtful mood. The tip ends of his fingers were 
inserted in the pockets of his pants, and his eyes were directed 
to his shoes, as if solving the problem of the possibility of 
walking on his ankles, while he was bending his feet right 
and left in making the experiment. A perplexed man, you 
may well opine, was that young lawyer. The client who the 
moment before had quitted the office, informed him that 
Nathan Trenk was that heartless Cockney snob, rich, extra- 
vagant, profligate, gambling, keen libertine, and rake, whose 


THE METROPOLITES. 


73 


life and times Walter had been embellishing in those choice, 
pleasant, biographical reminiscences to the interesting person 
himself. 

“ Sold, sold !” were the first exclamations of a soliloquy 
that burst involuntarily from his lips. “ Sold by a Peter 
Funk ! And that is not the worst of it ; I do not know who 
has become my purchaser. Where am I, what am I, and, 
above all, who is he?” Here he recalled hastily to his mind 
all he knew of the young man, and all he had learned of his 
exploits at Newport. The truth was an enigma not consist- 
ent with itself; how much more, then, was he confused by 
the fictions of his sporting career, which he fully believed, 
for he had not questioned the reports when they first reached 
him. 

Walter Parker was inclined at all times to mystify others, 
for the amusement it afforded him in watching their doubts 
and mental embarrassments. It might he said to be his 
favorite pastime to weave fiction and fact on the chain of his 
brilliant fancy, until it was impossible to separate one from 
the other. Therefore he felt like a spider caught in his own 
web. The entanglement was complete. 

“Well, well,” he muttered at last, “I give it up. There 
is a screw loose somewhere. He is deep — deep as ever 
plummet sounded. I’ll take another look at the Arabian 
Nights or Tales of the Genii. But if I do, I will believe 
them, after this wonderful story of the charity boy, the 
nephew of the rieli banker, punching anthracite in the back 
office for five dollars a month and playing poker for thou- 
sands, with yachts as stakes ; sleeping on oyster shells for 
Avant of a bed, and snubbing the aristocracy at Newport. 
If I ask him to explain, he will deny it all, with the proof 
positive on my side ; or, more probably, with his German 

4 


74 


THE METROPOLITES. 


plilegm, he will say nothing, as he has a very retentive mouth 
as well as memory. There is no use putting questions, when 
he knows so well how to hold his tongue.” 

In the evening, punctual to his engagement, Nathan pre- 
sented himself, and found Walter in his snug little library. 
It was not long before his mother entered, to whom Nathan 
was introduced as his young friend just graduated at college. 
The lady at first was inclined, in the goodness of her heart, 
to be patronizing in her manner to her guest, in order, as she 
supposetl, to render him more at his ease. But the grace 
and modest assurance with which Nathan met her .advances 
indicated such a knowledge of the usages of refined society, 
that she was charmed with her son’s agreeable acquaintance. 
At dinner Nathan was reserved as usual ; but his respectful, 
quiet manner, as well as his evident appreciation of Walter’s 
remarks, who had almost all the conversation to himself, went 
far to win the favorable opinion of the fond mother. 

^ As he rose from the table to leave, the hostess insisted on 
his remaining, as this was one of her reception evenings. 

“Above all,” said Walter, “remain to brew some punch, 
as it has been forgotten until now. I suppose, Nathan, you 
know some of the useful arts, as well as aU of the orna- 
mental ?” 

Trenk laughingly replied that, on an emergency, he might 
make a palatable drink. 

“Well, here,” said Walter, “are the groceries; so you 
may begin,” and led him into another apartment for that 
purpose. 

While Nathan was tasting, mfxing, and stirring the ingre- 
dients in the huge punch-bowl, Walter was incessantly talk- 
ing, as usual, and plying him with questions. 

“ I see,” said he, “ you understand the due proportions in 


THE METROPOLITES. 


75 


large quantities. You must have learned the art at some 
distillery. Were you ever in the rectifying business in the. 
liquor trade ? But won’t you take a cigar ?” 

Nathan said he never smoked. 

“ On a moderate calculation, Nathan, how many gallons 
of punch have you ever made ?” 

“ Some hogsheads,” was the answer. 

“ You must be fond of the article.” 

“ I never drink it.” 

“ No ! It is best not, if you are going to take a hand at cards.” 

“ I suppose so ; but I never played cards.” 

“ Then what is your favorite game ?” 

“ Canvas back ducks, in season.” 

“No, no; I don’t mean that. What do you play when 
you gamble ?” 

“ I never gambled in my life. I have had neither time, 
knowledge, money, nor inclination for that.” 

“ Then how the deuce did you spend your time ?” 

“ With the children, for the most part.” 

“ I suppose you would say you spent your money with 
them also ?” 

“The money that was spent did not come out of my 
2)ocket. I saved mine for a rainy day.” 

“ Tell me, while I think of it — what are the expenses of a 
yacht for a season, Nathan ?” 

“Well, with economy, I suppose - about the same amount 
which it would cost to build one. But it was left to others 
to foot up our bills, and therefore I cannot say exactly how 
much we spent each season.” 

“ Then, when you marry that pretty cousin of yours, and 
that rich banker-uncle comes down with tlie needful, you 
will know.” 


76 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


“ I wish, Mr. Parker, you knew that cousin. of mine, as you 
call her. I am sure she would like you.” 

“Thank you, my fine fellow. You are both generous and 
complimentary.” 

It is needless to pursue this conversation, as it ended in 
Walter’s belief of Trenk being all that was reported of him 
at Newport. That about the children was fiction, of course ; 
and the negation of smoking and gambling being graceful 
denials of vices which he was not bound to admit. On the 
other hand, Nathan imagined Walter had been undeceived 
by the gentleman in the morning, and was making fun out 
of the newspaper sketch. 

Nathan was now looking intently into the enormous punch- 
bowl, with his thoughts wandering off to the Druidoaks, 
when the word “deep,” from Walter’s lips caught his 
ear. 

“Yes, deep,” said he, supposing Walter alluded to the 
punch measure ; “ but rather strong, I should think.” 

“Very cool withal,” Walter replied; “prepared with the 
highest art; fresh, sweet, and seductive; enough to make 
the ladies talk.” 

“ But not enough to do them any harm.,” 

“That depends, Nathan, upon their taste. Only furnish 
them something rich and spicy, their fancy will fill up the 
picture to suit themselves. Put only a secret at the bottom 
of that bowl, and they will drink all the liquid to reach it, 
although they may lose themselves in the intoxication of the 
search.” 

Trenk, looking up in his face at this unexpected sentiment, 
discovered Walter’s gaze fixed on him, and exclaimed: “T 
do not know, Mr. Parker, what you mean.” 

“ Truth, they say, Nathan, lies in a well. Why not, then. 


THE METROPOLITES. 77 

in a pimcti-ber^l ? I can see a reseml^ance to your features 
in this liquor.” 

“If you are moralizing,” said N’athan, tasting the punch, 
“ why not give me the whole sermon, as 1 cannot follow 
your argument from the heads only of your discourse.” 

When the company assembled, the two gentlemen descend- 
ed from the library to the drawing-rooms, now well crowded 
with guests. Nathan’s entrance created some sensation and 
some curiosity among the ladies. “ Who is he ?” and “ Where 
from ?” were the imiversal inquiries, which were easily 
answered, of his being a graduate of college and about to 
study law in 'Ne^V York. One or two* of the gentlemen had 
met him at a regatta on his yacht, and at once his position 
in society was established. The ladies all implored Walter, 
in the same strain and in the same words: “Do bring him 
with you to see us,” which of course was faithfully promised. 

As the evening wore on, waltzing was proposed, in which 
Nathan took part, greatly to the delight of several young 
ladies whom he selected as partners. After that, the buzz 
of conversation was hushed by the usual admonition to listen, 
as some music on the piano and harp, accompanied by sweet 
voices, added a new charm to the entertainment. The hum 
of aj^probation was audible throughout the admiring circle 
as the soft strains died away ; while an- encore was asked 
and readily agreed upon. The second essay seemed to im- 
part even more pleasure, nor did other performers appear 
willing to break the spell by an attempt to rival what had 
been achieved. It was whispered somewhere that Mr. 
Trenk was a musician, with a highly cultivated voice. The 
whisper was repeated by several, until all joined in making 
the same remark; But who would ask him, was the ques- 
tion. Walter would not, because he dreaded a failure ; and 


78 


THE METROPOLITES. 


several ladies equally dreaded his declining their request. 
At length a very young lady with whom he had waltzed 
ventured to propose it to him. 

She had been attracted to Trenk on his being presented to 
her ; but was yet almost too much of a child to be called a 
young lady, being, it was said, less than sixteen, and dimi- 
nutive in size and figure. In truth Emma Gray had already 
seen a year more than was supposed ; but her seclusion from 
society, the little notice which had been taken of her, as well 
as her quaint, natural manners, bordering on frankness, and 
apparently her unsophisticated remarks of childhood, had in- 
duced her acquaintances to believe her still a child. Youth- 
ful and small, she was withal graceful and well formed ; her 
features and throat were faultless in their classic symmetry, 
with jet-black hair and eyes almost too large and piercing, 
but yet indicative of more moral feeling than passion. Her 
features, when in repose, betrayed a slight tinge of melan- 
choly; a sombre cast of thought, which at times verged 
upon sadness, as though she had already grieved and suftered. 
But when she spoke, an almost angelic sweetness and purity 
suflTased her countenance, as she threw back her raven tresses 
in her simple, earnest, innocent conversation. Her parents 
had long since been dead ; in fact, it was only in her infancy 
that her mother had impressed a last kiss upon her lips. 
Since then she had lived with some distant relations, seeing 
but little society, and not much inclined to cultivate a large 
circle. When she first beheld Nathan, his figure, dress, 
graceful manners, and easy, Avinning conversation, had im- 
pressed her favorably ; indeed, he was the most handsome 
and polished gentleman whom she had ever seen. In a 
short time she was on the most easy terms Avith him, and 
rather astonished at herself. But then he waltzed so Avell, it 


THE METROPOLITES. 


79 


was no exertion when she had him for a partner, and his 
merry smile had set all her maiden reserve at defiance. 

“Will you not sing for us, Mr. Trenk?” inquired she, in a 
low tone. And perceiving his im willingness, she added : 

“ Then will you not for me ?” with some emphasis on the 
last pronoun. 

“To he sure I will,” he rephed, with a whining smile, as 
he drew near to the piano with her leaning on his arm. 

The crowd around the instrument immediately gave way, 
and the young lady stood hack as Nathan removed his 
gloves, displaying a large signet-ring. “Now what shall 
it he, JMiss Emma ?” said he, seating himself, and running his 
fingers over the keys. 

He felt within himself an unwonted ambition to excel, to 
surpass the previous performance, and at the same time a 
great desire to please the little lady at his side. Conscious 
of his great musical talents, he was at his ease, well knowing 
he had around him a circle capable of appreciating any choice 
gem in the art. His self-possession made him, if possible, 
more graceful than ever, and his modest deportment, along 
with his other external recommendations, drew all eyes admi- 
ringly upon him. His rapid manipulation indicated a com- 
plete command of the piano ; and it was observed in his 
careless touches, the sounds of the desultory notes soon 
began to infuse a mournful, thrilling sadness, a sweet melan- 
choly, that caused the heart to swell and the pulse beat 
quick. While these sounds were heard one by one, slowly, 
distinctly, in tender sweetness, like crystal waters flow into 
golden fountains, each one felt her bosom heave and a tear 
to moisten, her eye, although not one syllable had fallen from 
his lips. They aU wished to prolong these entrancing tones, 
unwilling the spell should be broken by words, for no words 


80 


THE METROPOLITES. 


could be in unison with the blissful emotions thus created 
without them. . At length the sweet strain of music was 
mingled with some plaintive warblings, so clear, so low in 
mellow richness and gushing grief, that each one checked 
her breathing in silent expectation, to catch whatever lan- 
guage could impart to emotions apparently too deep for 
utterance ; and thus the song of the orphan boy began : 

Tell, tell me not that youth is bless'd. 

Though to her grave a mother’s borne ; 

I would I were with her at rest 
To wait in peace a brighter mom. 

To rove this world, with none to know, 

"With none to soothe or shed a tear, 

f 

Is like the march on Zembla’s snow ; 

"We feel no warmth to keep us here. 

To smile with lip, with heart to weep. 

And from the inmost soul to groan ; 

To thiuk where a mother may sleep. 

Wishing her mossy bed our own. 

Come, come to me, my angel bright, 

Come in my grief, and sadness come ; 

To break in joy those clouds of night, 

To quit this earth and take me home. 

Then tell me not that youth is bless’d. 

Though to her grave a mother’s borne, 

I would I were with her at rest, ' 

To wait in peace a brighter morn. 

Suck were the notes with which his soul sighed forth in 
song. And as the sound of the last word died away, he con- 
tinued the sweet symphony. He arose atdength to receive 
the smiles and compliments most plentifully bestowed. Wal- 
ter was too much amazed with the great musical powers ex- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


81 


liibited by INTathan to express any opinion, and looked round 
the rooms in wonder to observe the effect on others. Emma 
Gray quitted the circle to hide the emotipns and sad thoughts 
these soft and pleasing sounds had vividly awakened. The 
magical charm of the song had caused a train of reflections 
in her innocent breast unlike those hitherto produced by 
music, and no less of touching tenderness than tinged with 
deep melancholy. Walter’s mother said softly to him : 
“ Thank you, Mr. Trenk, you have given us a rich entertain- 
ment, and the no less acceptable from its being unex- 
pected.” 

The good lady was indeed grateful to him, for it is always 
an important point gained at a reception to exhibit a rare 
attraction, and, above all others, a musical attraction. It is 
the great event of the evening, the talk for a month, and an 
enviable notoriety for a season. Mrs. Parker was therefore 
duly grateful, as in duty bound. The other ladies were at once 
all eagerness to learn something of his antecedents, and those 
gentlemen who had been fortunate to meet him at the re- 
gatta, were pressed for information by their fair partners in 
their flirtations. 

It was soon known that Nathan Trenk was a gentleman of 
fortune, of an old family, and of the most fashionable preten- 
sions. That he was faultless in dress, and handsome, with 
the most winning manners and perfect accomplishments, they 
had seen for themselves. But — and there always is a but — 
he was most extravagant, dissipated, gambling, and worse. 
There is your passport, with which to enter the world, Nathan,. 
Now go forth and enjoy it if you can. 

Walter observed with pleasure the sudden fame and popu- 
larity of his young friend ; while his silence, when all around 
were expressing their admiration or astonishment, was attri- 


82 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


buted to various motives in his incomprehensible character. 
The music had entranced him, but the song itself contributed 
no part to the fascination. For, in his critical opinion, the 
words were not equal to the melody. 

“ I think you said, Mr. Parker, that Mr. Trenk was a law- 
student.” 

“ I think. Miss Caroline, I made that truthful statement.” 

“ Why, with his wealth, should he be a lawyer ?” 

“ To increase his store, no doubt, like the ever-busy bee.” 

“ That is a strange whim for one apparently blessed with 
so many fascinations.” 

“ Perhaps,” Miss Caroline, “ he is studying law with ulte- 
rior views to musical success.” 

“ I do not know of any affinity between music and law.” 

“ What would you say to a new opera, with scenes laid in 
the feudal ages and founded on the second book of Black- 
stone, with both music and libretto by Mr. Trenk ?” 

Miss Caroline opened her eyes at this piece of news. 

“No one can predict,” added Walter, gravely, “what he 
may do in his highest flight. Perhaps carry off a beauty 
under his left pinion.” 

The young lady turned away laughing, while Walter sought 
some other fair one to entertain with more enigmas ; for his 
pleasure was ever to leave them in doubt of his being serious 
in these fancy sketches. 

“ You have given us a new delight this evening in Mr. 
Trenk,” said the young and pretty widow Malcomb to Wal- 
ter, as she leaned on the arm of a bride, the witty Mrs. 
Carson. 

“ Mr. Trenk would be rejoiced to hear it, if you have not 
already told him.” 

“ When did you compose that charming sonnet which Mr. 


O'lIE METROPOLITES. • 83 

Trenk has sung divinely?” asked Mrs. Carson, the bride, 
demurely, with affected interest. 

What fi-eak of mental aberration has induced the ever- 
sensible and lovely matron in bridal costume to make such 
an inquiry ?” he exclaimed. 

“ The music by Nathan Trenk, the words by Walter Parker. 
Such is the report Mr. Pactolus is spreading through the 
rooms,” was the bride’s answer. 

“ Indeed,” added the young and handsome widow Malcomb, 
“ indeed, the song is the most beautiful you ever wrote.” 

“ Ladies, this latest story of Mr. Pactolus is only one of 
his many returned convicts, to be once more detected and 
punished for coming back periodically to impose on innocent, 
artless, confiding creatures.” 

“ He says you write a great many of such excellent odes,” 
Mrs. Carson remarked. 

“No doubt he would declare that every vmfortunate poeti- 
cal cherub that reaches an imtimely end and a publisher’s 
graveyard has my name inscribed on its tombstone.” 

“ That would be generous on his part, in making you a 
voluminous author,” suggested the young widow. 

“ And bound in marble,” breathed the young wife in a 
stage whisper, as a composing anodyne to his nerves. 

“ Mr. Pactolus loves to quote favorite extracts, culled amid 
the choicest flowers of verse,” said the widow. 

“ Then he ought to be in Botany Bay for life, where he 
would find many congenial companions.” 

“ But tell me, sir, is he not truthful ?” 

“ Beauteous Malcomb, never believe him, not even at your 
feet in a declaration — that first article in tjie feminine faith 
where all womanhood are bigots. Trust him not, for you 
W'ill end a martyr.” 


84 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ But you did write the song ?” laughingly reiterated the 
bride, as a Parthian arrow, while she retreated smiling and 
triumphant, escorted by a gentleman. 

“ They say Mr. Trenk is so wicked,” resumed Mrs. Mal- 
comb. 

“ How fascinating then he must be,” Walter remarked, col- 
lecting a bevy around him. • 

“ Poor fellow, he must be slandered,” sighed the pretty 
widow. 

“Poor fellow, how he must be tempted,” sighed Walter 
in return. “How if he were a Stoic like me, he might, with 
strong nerves, be as virtuous.” 

“Then it is true,” she cried inquiringly, “that he is so 
extravagant and dissipated.” 

“ I never said it, madani ; my knowledge of him would 
teach me that he is an economical, quiet, unpretending, un- 
sophisticated, moral young man. His relations have never 
been known to speak in other terms I” 

“ What a provoking wretch you are,” exclaimed the widow, 
“ to say this, when you know better.” 

“ My information is not so authentic as that of the ladies, 
of course; and if, on an intimate experience with him, you 
should learn better, do, like a good mother Eve, impart the 
knowledge to me.” 

Hathan had wandered away to the conservatory with 
Emma Gray. “ Do you sing many such plaintive airs ?” she 
asked, 

“ Hot many. Miss Emma, in company, for they cannot 
please many.” 

“ But surely you must admire them.” 

“ Yes ! When alone I sing them for my own pleasure. I 
must confess I was sad when I composed the little song.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 85 

“ Why, then, indulge in such composition if it make you 
sad 

“ It does not cause my depressing thoughts ; on the con- 
trary, music enables me to throw off care and sorrow.” 

“ The world does not suppose that you can have cause for* 
gloomy thoughts.” 

“ Perhaps the world is right. Miss Emma ; hut still I have 
them sometimes.” 

“ But you must favor me, sir, with such ballads when I 
wish them.” 

“ Undoubtedly I will, if you prefer them.” 


CHAPTER VIH. 

A 

It was one of those golden days with the first tints of 
coming autumn that gild the shores of the Bay of jN’ew 
York, before the smnmer has departed; while it might be 
said to linger like a well known beauty who has felt the com- 
ing chill that warns of fading attractions. The denizens of 
the city, still in their sumptuous villas and suburban hotels, 
were meditating a return to their more luxurious homes, but 
yet undecided about moving, changing their intentions with 
every change from storm to sunshine. Some had come back 
to the city, and all were soon returning. 

The evening steamboat had long since left the Battery for 
Staten Island, and was approaching the Kills which bound 
the Jersey shore. The upper deck, covered with an awning, 
was crowded with passengers, whose appearance denoted 
them all to be of high respectability and consideration. The 
gentlemen sat in clusters reading the evening papers, or talk- 


86 


THE TtfETROPOLITES. 


ing over the current news of the day. The ladies exchanged 
salutations, and seemed to rest after their exercise in the heat 
of the dusty streets. A few of the male sex who had relin- 
jquished seats to the ladies leaned over the rail in a listless 
silence, enjoying the scene ; while near the bow of the vessel 
a group of young men, fashionably dressed, had assembled to 
watch the tide setting in and to enjoy the fresh breeze blow- 
ing in with it from the ocean. 

They had observed a topsail schooner, with all her canvas 
set, threading her way through the navy of merchantmen 
anchored off the Quarantine. The ease and rapidity with 
which the craft moved along, and the brightness of her sails, 
reflected by the evening sun, induced them to watch her as 
she approached. 

“ That schooner is handled beautifully,” said one ; “ she is 
not, I suppose, a case for Quarantine ?” 

“ Yes, she is,” was the answer ; “ all coasters are overhauled, 
even if coming from the North Pole.” 

“ What for ? Surely she can have no infectious disease on 
board.” 

“ All vessels, when approaching Quarantine, become in- 
fected with the itch — the itching-palm.” 

“ Is that your last pun, Charley ?” inquired the first speaker, 
laughing. 

“ I think the boarding-officers would caU it poor-wit,” said 
one of the group. 

“ Look ! The schooner does not anchor ; she is not a coaster 
but a yacht,” as the vessel flew through the waters among 
the ships, and heading for the point of the island. 

“ A yacht !” exclaimed all. 

“ ’Tis the Chula,” quietly remarked the young man who 
was called Charley. 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


87 


“ Yes, it is the Chula.” 

“ But what ! Is she going to run aboard ?” 

At this moment the yacht was almost across the bow of 
the steamboat, and the passengers on deck could look down 
upon the sail close under their side. The large yacht, proba- 
bly of two hundred tons, with all her canvas to the wind, 
exhibited one of those rare specimens of nautical beauty and 
skill seldom seen. Her decks, fore and aft, were bright as 
the driven snow, while every piece of metal glistened like 
burnished armor. Her spars, sails, and ropes were of the best 
material, in Ihe best order ; and the crew stood at their posts 
all eager and alert as sailors on a man-of-war. The owner of 
the craft, known to many on the steamboat, was a wealthy 
young gentleman of tlie city. He stood alone, leaning against 
the mainmast, apparently indifferent to things around him, 
for the yacht was under the exclusive management of the 
mate. 

“ I wonder what pleasure Sabina can have on salt water,” 
Charley remarked, as the sad flew past them, “when he 
knows nothing about navigation ?” 

“ It is a stretch of courage in him,” answered another, 
“ even to venture down the Bay.” 

“What ! Is he such a coward?” was the inquiry.- 

“ Coward ! He is afraid of his own shadow ; never consi- 
ders himself safe beyond the reach of his aunt’s apron-string. 
Last summer he was on the Madison up the Hudson when she 
took Are. In his fright he jumped overboard and was rescued 
by a yawl picking him up.” ^ 

“ I heard,” said another, “ that in his fright he did more 
than the most courageous could do in their senses. But all 
agreed, as he sat iq^on a rock on the bank, with his knees 
nursed in his amis, that he was a most selfish coward.” 


88 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ That accounts for his being such a milk-sop,” said Char- 
ley, “ timid as a rabbit and lazy as a cat. I wonder what he 
lives for ?” 

While these encomiums were passing, the Chula had tacked, 
with her course laid for Governor’s Island, but still Sabina 
stood motionless at the mainmast. He was tall and well 
formed, with long, dark hair, jet-black eyes, but with a slight 
sinister expression in them. Ilis forehead was narrow and 
low, his complexion sallow, with irregular teeth and heavy 
lower jaw. His father, several years deceased, was a Spanish 
creole of Cuba, who had amassed a fortune in the West 
Indies. His enemies, and they were many, said he had been 
in the slave-trade ; and others, less or more charitable and can- 
did to be the more cutting, hinted at his association with the 
freebooters at the Isle of Pines. At all events, his marriage 
with this young man’s mother was in itself an outrage, in 
abducting her from a boarding-school and taking her abroad 
without even informing her relatives, until long after, of her 
fate. She returned at last to Kew York with her infant son, 
to implore her sister’s kindness for the innocent child, and 
soon after sank into the grave. Once or twice the father 
took the boy with him to sea, and then returned him to his 
aunt to educate. After Sabina became of age he had again 
visited his plantations in the West Indies ; but as these visits 
were of short duration, it was supposed the half-civilized inha- 
bitants on his estates were unsuited to his effeminate nature. 

The sun had not sunk beyond the Bergen hills when the 
Chula rounded to at Hoboken, her sails fell, a gim fired, and 
the flag hauled down, as the anchor plunged into the water. 
Sabina had gone below, but the rapidity with which the sails 
were clewed and the decks cleared was magical. The mate, 
an old weather-beaten seaman with grizzly hair and only one 


THE METROPOLITES. 


89 


eye, was grim as the ferryman on the Stygian lake. ITis 
nation and his nativity were imknown, but the scar across the 
left cheek was caused by the same cutlass which had deprived 
him in part of his vision. He spoke a jargon not unlike the 
patois of French negroes on the Lower Mississippi; nor did 
he acknowledge an acquaintance with any other language. 
His wishes and orders seemed to be anticipated by the crew, 
so rapidly were they executed, while each motion of his hand 
was recognised by them as some nautical telegraphic signal, 
to be obeyed promptly. His bronzed and rueful visage was 
rendered still more startling by long, pendent, gold ear-rings, 
which adorned either side of his face. His dress was a white 
linen shirt, with a broad falling collar, and across his breast 
two massive 'gold chains were linked to some trinkets of 
value. Around his waist a broad red silken sash was coiled 
in several folds, supporting his wide duck pantaloons, and his 
long, sharp-pointed boots turned up so as not to touch the 
ground at the toes. He had on a light summer jacket made 
of sea-grass of the finest texture, and wore a small Panama 
hat encircled with a narrow crimson ribbon. 

As the mate reigned supreme on deck, he had selected for 
sailors a set of men not unlike himself. These were Lascars, 
Caribs, and Yuca Indians from the coast of Sisal, whose pic- 
turesque costume, no less gaudy than that of their superior, 
exhibited so many fancy colors as to make one believe it was 
got up for effect by Sabina. 

At the end of the pier at Hoboken two ladies stood waving 
their handkerchiefs as a signal to the Chula, and instantly a 
boat put off to bring them on board. As they touched the 
side of the yacht, the crew grouped themselves at the fore- 
castle, and, with hats in hand, awaited in respectful silence 
their stepping on deck. 


90 


THE METROPOLITES. 


If Sabina were apprised by the mate, through the speaking- 
tube, of his aunt and another lady coming, he was very slow 
in recognising their presence. The two matrons were suffered 
to seat themselves, to undergo the delicate attentions of the 
attractive mate, without receiving any sign of recognition 
from the young gentleman below. 

Mrs. Waters, his aunt, had brought with her a lady Mend 
with whom she was intimate, and both received in cold, silent 
politeness the uncouth civilities of the old sailor. The aunt 
was not imused to visits on board the Chula ; and, therefore, 
quietly awaited the appearance of her nephew. The good 
lady had been reared in that old school of antiquated manners 
W'hich checked any exhibition of feeling ; she was past mid- 
dle age, without acquiring that increase of weight usually at- 
tending the maturity of life. She was slim and rather above 
the medium height ; dressed with all the neatness and sim- 
plicity of a Quakeress, but yet with a richness in the mate- 
rials not often seen in that sect. She was a good Christian, 
believing that the forms of the High Church were the only 
appropriate mode of w^orship, and she thought of no other. 
Strict and devoted to her religious duties, she found enough 
in them to occupy her time, for her family of children were 
all married, and she was left once more with her husband 
almost alone in their venerable mansion. Her lady friend, 
Mrs. Chilton, was another of the same happy frame of mind, 
and, being also free from worldly cares, they could pursue 
their matronly meditations in almost inseparable religious 
harmony. 

“ Listen to him now,” said the aunt to her friend ; “ he 
is amusing himself, and I suppose we must await his 
leisure.” 

At the same instant the voice of a parrot was heard in the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


91 


cabin, calling for “ a mint-julep,” “ a gin cocktail,” ‘‘ a brandy 
smash,” “ a claret punch,” “ a sherry cobbler,” “ make punch, 
make punch,” “ don’t spoil it with water.” As these seve- 
ral calls were made, the aunt turned to the lady and re- 
marked with a quiet smile : “ not that excellent ; could you 
imagine anything more perfect ?” 

“ Indeed, Madam,” was the answer, “ I cannot endure, 
those unseemly birds, which are often taught to say impro- 
per things.” 

An angelic smile suffused the countenance of the admiring 
aunt as she replied : “ It is no bird, but an imitation by Ni- 
colas, my nephew himself. But hark,” and they listened as 
a most unearthly scream, such a!^ might come from a steam 
whistle, was heard, shrill, piercing, prolonged, with a madden- 
ing agony, and then gradually subsiding into “ more punch, 
more punch ; don’t spoil it with water.” 

Mrs. Chilton was terrified, and involuntarily moved towards 
the small boat at the side, while the aunt, in silent delight 
at the performance, pressed her hand and at last said : “ Do 
not be frightened ; he tells me that he saw these birds in the 
tropics of every species, from the size of a wren to a raven, 
and their cries in the deep jungle are most terrific.” 

“ I should think they were, if that is a specimen,” exclaimed 
the lady, in great alarm. 

After some further imitations of other feathered songsters 
of the forest, the young gentleman deigned to raise his head 
above the hatchway. 

“ Come,” said the aunt, “ we are waiting for your com- 
pany to escort us home to dinner.” 

“ My dear aunt,” replied Sabina, as he stepped to her side, 
“ I wish you to remain and dine on board.” 

“ If we do we will be too late for the lecture of the Rev. 


92 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Mr. Mellowtone, at Dr. Brimson’s churcli ; and I know, Mco> 
las, you would regret to be absent.” 

“ Suffer me to manage that,” said the nephew, in a noncha- 
lant manner, escorting them down to the table. 

If it were possible that a saint could be tempted by any- 
thing earthly, we might imagine such a trial as that which 
the good aunt had now to undergo. If she had one failing 
still left that savored of mortal’s fallen condition, it was her 
lingering attachment to the dinner-table. But on the assur- 
ance of Sabina that she should hear the lecture, she consented 
to dine with him, although nearly sundown and the church 
two miles distant on the avenue. But she knew her nephew 
would not deceive her ; he was too good for that ; and she 
heaved a deep sigh as she thought how much more attentive 
he was to her and to religious instruction than her own chil- 
dren. hTot that her own children were not the best in the 
world, but yet they were not so often her escort to places 
of devotion and benevolence. 

The company were soon seated in the luxurious cabin, where 
a middle-aged butler, also from the tropics, stood at one side 
and directed two half-grown boys, with bright olive complex- 
ions, brilliant eyes, and glossy, straight dark hair, in their at- 
tendance on the guests. The dinner was served with the 
utmost taste, profusion, and variety ; nor could Mrs. Chilton 
imagine such skill in cooking was ever equalled in the most 
voluptuous establishments in the city. The dinner passed off 
with that stiff formality to which the ladies w^ere accustomed ; 
scarce a syllable was spoken, and, as the servants w^ere w^ell 
instructed, the silence of the party was almost unbroken. 

Tlie admirable training of Sabina by his aunt had taught 
him self-control, until it seemed he had no natural traits of 
character of his own. All appeared artificial in him in which 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


93 


the rough edges were worn down ; acting only in accordance 
with the rules of good-breeding, strict etiquette, apd the dic- 
tates of the lady. That a young man should lead such a cold, 
monotonous, artificial, although luxurious existence, might 
well entitle him to the reproach of milk-sop. But to his aunt 
he appeared the perfection of propriety ; a worthy example 
even to her own sons, who were somewhat boisterous and 
demonstrative in their manners. Why could not they be 
quiet, well behaved, like their cousin ? thought their mother ; 
and yet the world esteemed them well-bred gentlemen. 

Mrs. Waters had not, hoVrever, been inattentive to the good 
things before her. From the soup and salmon she had wan- 
dered through pleasant dishes and delicate wines, till she 
found herself amid a wide-spread dessert served on rich 
porcelain, where delicious fruits, among which were her 
choice conservatory grapes in thick clusters, tempted her 
still to linger. 

“ I am afraid,” gently murmured the good lady at last, 
“ we will be late for the evening service.” 

“ Do not make yourself imeasy ; we will be there in time,” 
said Sabina. “ But come and see for yourself.” At the same 
instant they rose and walked on deck. The sun had gone 
down, and twilight was melting away before the new moon 
in the west. The Chula had slipped her anchor when they 
sat down to the table, and, with her sails furled, she had 
gently drifted with the tide, and now they found themselves 
opposite Fourteenth street, at the foot of which Sabina’s 
carriage was always at this hour in waiting. 

Soon after, the nephew and aunt were seen to enter the 
church before the service had commenced. As the prim ma- 
tron walked slowly up the rich carpeted aisle, the nephew most 
devotionally followed with her prayer-book, while the deep 


94 


THE METROPOLITES. 


peal of the organ and the dim religious lights inspired the 
most holy feelings on all around. They knelt together in 
evening prayer, and many a father there present wished in 
his heart that he had a son with such serious thoughts as 
young Sabina. 

The beautiful and solemn service of the church, at all times 
calculated to inspire attention and devotional sentiments, 
failed on this evening to absorb the thoughts of Sabina. 
From his unquiet air and the restless movements of his eyes 
in the direction of the loft occupied by the organ and choir, 
it was evident that place had to him some unusual attraction. 
No one would accuse him of any partiality to any fair one 
to be found up there, or indeed elsewhere. His indifference 
to the sex was well known. But as he listened to the sweet, 
soul-subduing harmony which floated through the vast edifice, 
he seemed enraptured with every note, and almost neglected 
his duties during the opening service. 

He sat evidently in deep meditation under the discourse 
from the Keverend Mr. Mellowtone, but gave no external 
sign of edification or even interest in the priest. It was only 
after the congregation was dismissed he exhibited any re- 
turning animation, in the eagerness with which he scanned 
in the vestibule each person descending from the gallery. 

“ I cannot tell who it is,” said he to his venerable aunt, as 
she took his arm and gently pressed him forward to the pave- 
ment. 

“ What do you say, nephew ?” asked the lady. 

“I should like to know, aunt, who led in the choir this 
evening. Did you ever hear such a voice ?” 

“ I thought the music very good, certainly ; very good, as 
it ought to be. But perhaps it was Mr. Mellowtone you 
heard.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


95 


“ Mr. Mellowtone !” exclaimed the nephew. “ He might 
put one to sleep ; but that voice which I heard this evening 
-was something seldom equalled, and to me entirely new and 
surprising.” 

“ But, Nicolas, what did you think of the discourse ?” 

“ The discourse, did you say, aunt ? I never heard a word 
of it ; I was thinking only of that voice.” 

This reply was a gentle shock to the good lady, and she 
very prudently permitted the conversation to drop, as they 
walked along in silence absorbed in their respective medita- 
tions. At last they approached some friends who were also 
on their way home from chm*ch, and from them Sabina learned 
that the object of his admiration was young Mr. Trenk. 
With this information obtained, he became more attentive to 
his venerable relative as they drew near to her family man- 
sion. 

On entering the parlors Sabina discovered, in the partial 
light which a distant burner alone supplied, that young Mr. 
Waters and his beautiful young wife were there, waiting the 
return of their mother. “ Tell me,” said he eagerly to her, 
“ who is young Mr. Trenk 

“ A very rich, fascinating, dissipated young gentleman, Mr. 
Sabina, whom I am shocked at your inquiring for,” replied 
Mrs. Waters the younger, with a most winning smile. 

“ I don’t care about his dissipation, but do you know him ?” 

“ Certainly I know him ; but as you seem excited, and may 
possibly intend to send him your card, you cannot, surely, 
expect me to carry it.” 

“ I want to know him,” muttered Sabina. “ What a mag- 
nificent voice he has !” 

When did you become a musical critic ?” asked the lady, 
as she walked through the sidte of parlors to the no less spa- 


96 


THE METROPOLITES. 


cious dining-room brilliantly lighted beyond. Her husband 
and Sabina followed, and as the lady helped herself to some 
fruit and an ice, Sabina stUl pursued the one thought predo- 
minant in his mind. Throwing himself into a large cushioned 
arm-chair near the table, he seemed perplexed at the vague 
answers which he supposed were made equivocal only to pro- 
voke him. He knew he was no great favorite of his cousin’s 
pretty wife, who had been, before her marriage, a celebrated 
belle, and no less witty than beautiful, while some said her 
good common sense was equal to her other recommendations. 
But he still was on the best of terms with her, and again 
renewed the topic. 

“It does not seem altogether fair, my dear cousin, that 
you should be so tantalizing in your answers about this 
Mr. Trenk.” 

“ Well, my dear Mr. Sabina,” with emphasis on the adjec- 
tive, “ I am sure I am willing to tell you all I know, but in 
your eagerness you have forgotten to inform me why you 
inquire ; and I cannot, therefore, imagine what you want to 
know about him.” 

Hereupon he described the excellence of his music in 
church, and the effect it had upon him. In the great admira- 
tion for his skill, he had expressed a very natural desire to 
know something of the performer. 

“With this explanation,” said she, “I now understand 
you. Well, then, to begin at the beginning : Once upon a 
time, about two or three years ago, Mr. Trenk made his 
appearance in society, introduced, I believe, by Walter 
Parker, who never stood sponsor before nor since for the 
gentility of anybody. Indeed, I have heard him deny the 
introduction, declaring the young ladies forced ^him to pre- 
sent them to him ; that they fairly besieged his mother about 


THE METROPOLITES. 97 

it, and he had either to introduce them or to call in the police 
to keep them quiet.” 

“ That exonerates Walter Parker,” said Mr. Waters, the 
husband. 

The wife smiled as she proceeded. “At all events, Mr. 
Parker knew all about him, although he denied that also. 
But when pressed* as to his family, he confessed it was old as 
the Highlands, and thought if any young lady should be fool 
enough to marry him, she would never have cause to be 
annoyed with his relations. As to his wealth, Walter said 
it might be immense, fabulous ; but it was difficult now-a- 
days to say who was rich. Mr. Parker is, you know, an 
enigma himself, and it is impossible to tell when he is 
serious or when in jest.” 

“ Yet this does not,” said Sabina, “ enlighten me 
much.” 

“Well, then,” added the lady, “everybody thinks him a 
very quiet, wealthy, accomplished, fascinating, dissipated 
yoimg gentleman, and handsome as he is wicked. He won 
a yacht in a raffle at i^ewport.” 

“ How attractive he must be to mothers with marriage- 
able daughters,” added Sabina, with mock gravity. 

The lady slightly, by a look, resented this remark, as she 
replied : “ I wonder one so sober and so good as Mr. 

Sabina should desire to know one so worldly ?” 

“ I don’t think he would bite me, cousin.” 

“ Bite you !” exclaiilied the beautiful wife, with a satirical 
smile. “ Bite you ! What a blessing would come from the 
infection — grace, wit, good manners, melody, accomplish- 
ments and then suddenly checked herself as if having said 
something improper. 

“ It takes these dissipated, depraved wretches, all their 

5 


98 


THE METROPOLITES. 


spare time to cultivate accomplishment and pay attention to 
the ladies, to maintain their footing in society.” 

“ What a novel view of social enjoyment,” replied she, 
somewhat piqued. “These horrible, sinful creatures, these 
young men, enter society as a penance ; they rush frantically 
from their mental sufferings to waltz them away in expiation 
with some young lady ; they appease the* stings of remorse 
with the self-inflicted tortures of a quadrille ; find absolution 
for a guilty conscience in a flirtation ; and fly off like vam- 
pires before the dawn to some garret. I now understand, 
with your innocent life, why it is that we have to drag you 
with us into company, and push you up forcibly to a partner 
in a cotillion.” 

“You cannot say, madam,” answered Sabina, “that I 
ever went with you reluctantly to a ball, or supper, or con- 
cert, or reception, or opera, or even to the milliner’s, when 
your husband was engaged down town with business, examin- 
ing accounts, committee on a bank statement, director in a 
fire company, or some other of those thousand and one excuses 
which married gentlemen have for staying away at night.” 

“ I will admit you have been very obliging.” 

“Well, then,” said Sabina, not heeding her remark, 
“ when other dodges fail, these young married men join the 
Life Guard and have to go every night to drill, to drill ; and 
that is the reason why they march with eyes right and 
bayonets on a line up Broadway. They know their wives 
are reviewing them.” 

Young Waters laughed aloud at this unexpected attack, 
and Sabina continued, addressing the pretty lady : “ Yes ! I 

go with you cheerfully, and with aunt, also, to Sunday-schools, 
Bible class, evening lectures, to morning service, to Dorcas 
societies, and a dozen other religious gatherings.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


99 


“ And wHch class of duties do you prefer ?” inquired the 
lady, with a smile. 

“ I don’t know that I have any preference. They are very 
much alike — very dull and trying to the patience.” 

“ What a waste of the virtues, Mr. Sabina.” 

“Yes,” he answered, “it is a waste when a lady 
desires your escort to a party ; ‘ and be sure,’ she tells you, 
to call early for her. But when you call early, she keeps you 
waiting an hour or two, at least, in a parlor, neither light 
nor dark, neither warm nor cold.” Here he pantomimed a 
gentleman trying to amuse himself under such cheering cir- 
cumstances. “ Then you drive off at last, to be kept another 
hour, while she is in the dressing-room, watching for her 
exit, to conduct her further on.” This scene he embellished 
with another ludicrous imitation. “In the supper-room she 
gives you her gloves to hold, and her fan, and her handker- 
chief, and her bouquet, while she takes some pickled oysters, 
and some stewed oysters, and some Med oysters” — imitating 
a delicate lady pursuing a voracious appetite under fashion- 
able difficulties — “ and some chicken salad, and some more 
champagne, and some terrapin, and jelly, and strawberry 
cream, a little more of the strawberry, and just a drop of 
Amontillado;” embellishing each and every article with 
some suitable striking caricature of voice and acting, to 
end with a prolonged imitation of opening a bottle and 
pouring out wine. “ If a fellow wants anything himself he 
must ask a neighbor to feed him with a knife, the forks 
being all engaged and his hands full.” This part of the per- 
formance was represented under some choice exhibitions of 
dogs snarling over a bone. “ Now, I should like to know 
where is the fun in all this ? Oh ! to be sure, there is the 
music, the prima-donna with voice cleared by a heavy 


100 


THE METROPOLITES. 


supper and dense atmosphere of heated and crowded rooms.” 
This he embellished with the parlor theatricals, “ imploring” 
a reluctant young lady to sing, twisting an imaginary 
music-stool three times one way and fourteen times another. 
The concluding piece was a burlesque duett, in which he 
ventriloquized two rats quarrelling under the carpet to the 
notes of the Anvil Chorus, while he was keeping time on 
the table at an imaginary piano. The applause from his 
audience brought even the servants to cluster in the hall, 
out of sight, in unbounded admii'ation. 

“ But this is not all,” he continued ; “ you must go home, 
if you can ever get there. Now’s yom* turn to wait down 
stairs till the lady puts on her wrappings.” At this he 
slouched on his hat, turned up his coat collar, folded a shawl 
round his throat to represent the tired gentleman, the tipsy 
beau, the young lover with faded smde, the savage brother 
gritting his teeth, or the sleepy one ; the agreeable friend 
with his stock in trade of witty things exhausted, and the 
patient, good soul in tight boots, with faint success at a 
smile imder the patent-leather torture of a corn. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Ox the following morning Sabina set forth from his rooms 
about noon to learn further of Nathan Trenk, and, if possi- 
ble, to make his acquaintance. That he should not have 
encountered him heretofore was in consequence of Sabina’s 
absence in the South during the last few winters, at the 
season when the city is the most hospitable and when such 
yoimg men are constantly in society. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


101 


“ I shall, first of all,-’ said Sabina to himself as he drew on 
his kid gloves, “find something at the Foundlings, where 
some one will be sure to know all about the chap.” With 
this he bent his steps towards Broadway, although it is well 
known such a charitable foundation is not to be discovered 
in that direction. “Yes, some one will tell me,” he mut- 
tered, “among that learned society of useful information, 
where Trenk is to be seen.” 

He had not quite reached that street when he stopped for 
a moment before a row of imassuming three-story brick 
buildings, and then entered the door of a little dirty looking 
cigar and tobacco shop in one of them. A plainly-dressed 
German girl rose to receive him as he stepped to the counter. 
“ What’s in my box ?” said he. 

The girl, immediately looking behind a screen, drew forth 
some letters and newspapers, which she handed in silence to 
him. 

“ Nobody to see me ?” he inquired. 

“No one,” she answered, respectfully. 

“ That’s good, anyhow,” he remarked, and turning away, 
pushed open an inner d.oor that led into a narrow passage, 
coming to the end of- which, he touched a spring in the wall 
and another door flew open. He now found himself in a 
spacious refectory and drinking saloon, fitted up with all 
the appliances of taste, beauty, and comfort, to be seen in 
the most luxurious establishments of the kind. The flooi 
was of white marble tile, and the slabs of the tables were of 
the same material. A magnificent chandelier hung from the 
frescoed ceiling in harmony with the line engravings and 
costly pictures adorning the Avails. The boxes or stalls for 
the accommodation of guests Avere draped Avith heavy silk 
damask curtains, hung on massive frames of thick gilding, 


102 


THE METROPOLITES. 


iind at the entrance of each a bronze statue of a man-at- 
arms, in chain-armor, stood holding a torch in hand. Some 
of the large alcoves were in the form of tents, with thick 
silken cords and tassels pendent from the sides ; and paint- 
ings of martial and musical instruments were clustered in 
rich profusion within the imaginary encampment. 

A solitary attendant was in waiting in this festive apart- 
ment, to whom Sabina did not deign to speak ; but passing 
through, he ascended a staircase beyond that led to the 
story above. Opening a door, he entered a cheerful, cool 
apartment, with the windows looking to the south, through 
which a refreshing breeze was blowing from the Bay. At 
the upper end of this room a young gentleman was seated in 
a luxurious arm-chair, with his feet on a low floor cushion. 
At his elbow a small movable stand was placed, on which 
rested a glass of brandy. The young gentleman, although 
not twenty-five years of age, must have weighed more than 
two hundred pounds. He was of good height, with light 
hair, light eyebrows, blue eyes, and a heavy beard almost 
white. He Avas smoking a large, highly-ornamented German 
pipe, imparting to his whole appearance that of a good- 
natured, ponderous, Teutonic boy, Bacchus, as painted by 
some Rhenish artist. When the door opened he unclosed 
his half-shut eyes, but without raising his head, while his 
chin almost rested on his breast, as he shot a glance through 
his upper eyelashes at the intruder. Sabina approached 
without receiving any other recognition than a steady gaze 
from the fleshy occupant on the chair, and asked : 

“ Is nobody here ?” * 

“ Echo answers I am,” growled the white beard, sucking 
awa)' at his pipe without raising his head. 

“ So I see,” said Sabina. “ But you are not a room-full.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


103 


“ Almost,” came from him of the German pipe. 

“ It is rather warm, this morning.” 

“ Slightually,” was the slow,, laconic answer. 

“ Suppose you lay down that pipe and listen to me, Mr. 
Burk.” 

“Do you want me to take to drinking?” said the fat 
youth, with his chubby fingers seizing the glass of brandy. 

“ Not on my account.” 

“Look here, Don,” said Burk, coughing, for he had 
swallowed some smoke, and at the same time pressing the 
tobacco in the bowl of the pipe ; “ look here, Don ; do you 
know the taste of brandy? Had you ever the immoral cou- 
rage to try it ?” 

“ Yes I have, often ; but I don’t like it.” 

“ Do you carry, Don, the dry temperance dictionary that 
explurges all words of liquid syllables ? If not, what will 
you take ? Let me order something strong, not rash ; a rash 
that may come out on your face. What do you say to a 
glass, of ice-water with a teaspoon of claret ? I can make 
for you a milk punch, three spoons of cream, and some sugar. 
As you smoke, here’s a straw ; try that with a lucifer 
match.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Burk ; I will take nothing.” 

“ Then if you have come for my agreeable society, take a 
seat and propel,” said the young gentleman, putting his 
mouth down to the table to sip his brandy. 

“ Tell me where is everybody tliis morning ?” inquired 
Sabina. 

“You see, Don, these banquet halls deserted. This is a 
bad hour to jneet the innocents. I suppose they are now out 
to be washed by their mothers. They come here early to 
get their morning’s milk on their way dowm town; they 


104 


THE METROPOLITES. 


return to this peaceful hamlet going up, for a dew-drop to 
keep them lively in the evening, and sometimes they lay 
their sweet curly heads here at night.” 

“ I have often seen plenty of them at this time of day.” 

“ Maybe you have, Don Nicolas. But they are now all 
gone — the brightest, loveliest, dearest, are always first to 
go ; some have taken to yachts, the heaving might and main 
in the nasty deep ; some to excoriations on horseback ; some 
to sea-bathing in the suburbs of the city, teaching young 
ladies in their innocence and India-rubbers how to swim, 
along with some other knowledge not put down as an item 
in school bills. But it is a blessing, Senor Don, that I am 
here for your comfort. You now have discovered that 
foundlings are not always to be found.” Hereupon he 
offered up a libation to his thirsty lips. 

“ Do you know young Trenk ?” asked Sabina, abruptly. 

‘‘ Moderately, Senor Hidalgo ; moderately,” setting down 
the glass of brandy. 

‘‘ Where can I find him, do you suppose ?” 

“ Mr. Trenk, in my humble opinion, Don Senor, does not 
publish where he ‘ is to be found at all hours as they say 
in astrological advertisements. His star is not in the ascen- 
dant at noon, but under a slight occultation.” 

“ Where, then, can I meet him in the evening ?” 

“ Lacing a ballet-dancer’s gaiter, if he has no higher aspi- 
ration, or cooking garlic and onions with Parmesan cheese, 
for his favorite prima-donna, whoever she may be.” 

“ Is he a foundling ?” 

“ Not as I know of this establishment. But on that point 
you had better consult the diminutive Dutch damsel down 
stairs who rejoices in the romantic name, which for short is 
Miss Theodolinda Wolfenkrauthausen. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


105 


“ True enough,” said Sabina, “ she knows every one.” 

“ But I am afraid, very much afraid,” gi’oaned the fat 
youth, clasping his hands together, rolling up the white of 
his eyes, and drawing down the corners of his mouth, “ I am 
grievously afraid, brother Nicolas, that young Trenk is no 
better than one of the wicked. Avoid him as a limb of Satan, 
as a whole tree of evil, as an immense forest of depravity, as 
a world of season-tickets for the pit of perdition. You 
would not live in thy comeliness and grace to die in the odor 
of brandy.” Here again the youth groaned in spirit, and 
then hastily finished his glass. 

Sabina moved not a muscle at the mock exhortation. He 
appeared indifferent to it, unless it might be a slight twinkle 
of an eye at the burlesque solemnity of the advice. 

“Think, brother Nicolas,” he continued, in the same 
strain, “ how thy white choker might be soiled, thy spotless 
linen-cambric rumpled, thy smooth black hair wrinkled, if 
this man of strategy would seize thee forcibly and hurry 
thee headlong into cutting a pirouette with sylphides, strain- 
ing thy delicate voice after some singing syren, and draw- 
ing thy checks for thousands lost at poker ! Ah, thee 
knowest not the fascinations of a good hand at poker! I 
have been tempted on a good hand, too, and lost. For that 
loss I grieve, and now I see the error of my play. But go, 
my son, and ask Miss Nix-cumer-aus.” 

Sabina hastened down to inquire of Theodolinda if Mr. 
Trenk were free of this honorable company; and learning 
rom her that he was not, he rushed back to Burk and 
begged he would give him an introduction to the young 
man ; which, being promised, Sabina ordered another brandy- 
smash for his companion and a mint-julep for himself. 

“ I object not, Don Nicolas, to the use of mint ; but as it is 
5 * 


106 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


not mentioned along with frankincense and myrrh, aloes and 
cinnamon, I avoid it, save only as a gentle sauce to a bit 
of the innocent lamb.” 

“ All who quote Scripture are not saints,” Sabina replied. 

“ True, very true,” Burk answered, moralizing. “ It is 
astonishing how learned we become in the Gospels when- 
ever we want to perpetrate some rascality 'wholesale. We 
can break the ten commandments or our neighbor’s head, 
and quote somebody among the prophets in our favor.” 

Sabina looked up to see if Burk were still jesting. But 
he had raised a dense cloud, so that his features were not 
visible. 

“ Now there,” continued Burk, “ there is Trenk, of whom 
one would suppose butter would not melt in his mouth; 
he looks innocent, goes to church regularly, is well behaved 
at all times, is such a favorite with mammas and the young 
ladies, but withal is deep, a desperately dissipated yoimg 
scamp, and sings beautifully, beautifully.” 

“Does he sing so very well ?” 

“ Like a martingale. But then he is rich, and that 
accounts for his early ruin.” 

“ lie must be a hopeful youth.” 

“ He is the best of fellows,” said Burk, pulling the pipe 
out of his mouth. “ It almost makes me shed tears to think 
of him. I love him like a young brother. I could take 
him in my arms and fold him to my heart, he is so delight- 
ful when singing some of his pretty little songs.” 

It was very evident that if Nathan had acquired the 
reputation of wealth and family, he had also received an 
additional notoriety not quite so enviable. He did not 
belong to this Club, called the Foundlings ; for, in truth, he 
knew nothing of it, in common with all others who were 


THE METROPOLITES. 


107 


not members. The establishment had its rise in a few 
wealthy young men who were, indeed, too young to gain 
admittance into other clubs, or where their wishes would 
not have been gratified. They were without a place of 
common resort, and were known as the “ Children in the 
Wood;” the babes of “the Old Woman who lived in a 
Shoe and, finally, as “ the Lost Infants.” An enterpris- 
ing French cook, a superior artist but without funds, pro- 
posed to furnish them a place of entertainment. His scheme 
was brilliant, and they embraced it without calculating the 
chances of failure. The Frenchman was furnished profusely 
with money, and having more professional ambition than 
avarice, dealt honorably by “ the babes.” Afraid at first 
of being laughed at for their undertaking, they resolved to 
keep the matter profoundly secret except to the members 
admitted. In a short time the convenience of silence and 
exclusiveness became so apparent that it was adopted as a 
cardinal rule, to which all the initiated were sworn, not to 
allude in any manner to the Club, nor even hint at its exist- 
ence. The French cook sent for his brother, who was a 
commissionnaire on the streets of Paris, and taking him into 
business, he was enabled to serve the Foundlings to a much 
greater extent, and in a greater variety of ways, than are 
known in the management ^of other clubs. Had Sabina 
desired this Frenchman, Monsieur Lete, to let him know 
all about young Trenk, it is very probable in two or 
three days he would have been informed of his whole 
history, his present habits, position, and pursuits. The 
brother commissionnaire had the means whereby he could 
have soon found out all. It was his trade ; for many 
little dishes of gossip and scandal did he dress up artisti- 
cally for the gratification of the Foundlings. None of the 


TIIE METROPOLITES. 


log* 

French secret police were more successful in arriving at the 
truth. 

As Sabina and Burk sat drinking, perhaps in the city 
no two young men were more dissimilar in their habits, 
tastes, opinions, and pursuits, if either of them could be 
said to have any aim in life. Both were rich, and there- 
fore had been invited to become members of the Club by 
friends. But in all else they differed. Mr. Burk was of 
one of the very oldest and most distinguished families in 
the State of New York; but the wealth of the family had 
settled in another branch, and Burk had commenced the 
study of medicine, which he intended following as a pro- 
fession. But in consequence of a cousin dying unexpectedly, 
he had fallen heir, not to a fortune, but to the anticipation 
of a very large one. An aged lady relative, who was the 
head of the family, and who possessed the revenues also, 
declared upon the death of the cousin that Burk was the 
lineal heir entitled to the fortune at her decease. In truth 
this old dame, somewhat verging on eighty, but looking not 
quite so old, had far outlived all her own generation, and had 
no near relatives now living among persons even of her own 
blood and name. But as she had announced that Burk was 
to be her heir, and as no one doubted, with her family pride, 
that she would keep her word, the world gave him the cre- 
dit of possessing the wealth which was only in expectancy. 
Li the meantime she agreed to allow him an annual amount 
for liis expenses, ample, as she thought, for the most lavish 
expenditures of a young man ; and so it would have been at 
the beginning of this century, to which date she commonly 
referred when forming her estimate of any matter, but which 
amount Burk found not quite enough for some of the ex- 
pensive dissipation in which he indulged. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


109 


The old lady, not deeming it proper that her heir should 
become a doctor, as in her opinion it was not the profession 
of a gentleman, Burk very willingly quitted his medical 
studies, and as yet had not turned his attention to any other. 
His parents being dead, he very readily agreed, on the old 
lady’s order, to live with her in the venerable family mansion. 
She was very exacting in his observance of some pieces of 
etiquette and certain little attentions ; but beyond these, his 
time was at his own disposal. Her establishment was on a 
very liberal scale, and some thirty years ago, perhaps, 
would have been called princely. But now the house was 
antiquated, and the rich furniture also. But this was no 
objection to the plate, which was in profusion, nor to the 
contents of a well stocked wine-cellar. 

Burk spent his time in a pleasant manner at the Club, 
the theatres, or other places of public amusement; and 
as he was a great favorite in society, as well as possessing a 
fine basso voice, he could often be seen at some evening 
reunion or supper party. Being very amiable, with an inex- 
haustible fund of good spirits, his life seemed devoted to 
amusement ; and as his “ too solid flesh ” or indolent tempe- 
rament forbade active sports, he was content to enjoy what- 
ever he could find without much physical exertion. His 
fondness for brandy and his pipe had long since become 
proverbial ; nor did he care how many pleasant allusions 
were made by his friends to these habits. 

The conversation was resumed by Sabina. “ You are 
greatly attached, Mr. Burk, to young Trenk.” 

“ Yes, you may well say that,” he answered, as Sabina 
discovered an unknown gentleman to enter through a side 
door, stepping up cautiously behind Burk’s chair to surprise 
him, and at the same time smiling to Sabina to give no sig- 


110 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


nal. “ Yes, indeed,” continued Burk, “ I do like the fellow. 
I would have gathered him as a hen gathers her young 
under her wings, but somehow he is shy.” 

“ That shows his sense,” said the intruder, who was 
Walter Parker, putting both of his hands over Burk’s eyes. 
“ Guess who I am, you old reprobate ? Gathering chickens 
under your wing ! You had better put on feather pantaloons 
and hatch out a basket of eggs.” 

“ Let go, let go,” cried Burk, taking the pipe out of his 
mouth. 

“ First guess who I am.” 

“Well, let me see who you are,” said the fat youth, mak- 
ing no further resistance. Then he added slowly : “ The 
fingers are sticky. It must be the journeyman tailor at 
Lispenard. ,No. Vinegar and pepper ! it is the boy that 
opens oysters at Canal street. No. A smell of ink and fools- 
cap — clerk to the bowling alley at the Shades. Marker for 
the Olympic billiard table. Not right yet?” Hereupon he 
gave a long whistle and exclaimed: “Now I have it! A 
learned Theban ; some crazy robed man of justice ; some 
fool of a yoke-fellow of equity ; some villain of a Revised 
Statute referee. ’Tis one of the three — mad, fool, or knave ; 
the last created by special statute in the present century.” 

Walter released his hands and stepped in front of his 
colossal friend. 

“ Come, tell me, Mr. Burk, why quoting Scripture to-day ?” 

“ Not Scripture, Walter, not Scripture ; it was Shakespeare 
— Lear, King Lear, who gave away his property and then 
went to law about it ; law being insanity, and equity nonsense. 
If he had known anything of a referee he would have pic- 
tured that as rascality. He had a fine time of it, generally. 
He caught thunder, as ^u may well expect ; fell into low 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Ill 


company and strange bed-fellows — ^politicians, members of 
Congress, editors of religious newspapers, railroad directors, 
and literary ladies ; took to chewing tobacco, and was nomi- 
nated for President. His name is now on the slate for that 
office, with only twelve hundred and fifty candidates ahead 
of him. When the mad king Tvas about dying, one of 
the girls came back and raised a jolly row, so as to 
have it reported that the elegant, fashionable, beautiful, 
and so forth, had just arrived from Pans, to throw her- 
self into the outstretched arms of her long-lost, expiring 
father. All true, all true,” added Burk, resuming his 
pipe. 

“ She had an editorial obituary inserted in the morning 
papers, in which it was stated the extent and variety of her 
wardrobe, and especially a description and the number of 
her new imported dresses, now in the bonded warehouse 
awaiting the sale of her Southern plantation and thousand 
slaves for funds to pay the duties. Walter, my dear boy, 
bless your innocence, all the ‘ fashionable ’ intelligence and 
‘movements in high life’ which you read of in newspaper 
corners are puffs penned and paid for by Gonerils. But I 
beg your pardon, Mr. Sabina,” turning to him, and in a 
courteous, respectful manner adding : “ Permit me to intro- 
duce you to my friend Mr. Parker. I had forgotten you 
were not acquainted.” 

The gentlemen bowed to each other, and Burk finished 
his glass of brandy. After a moment’s pause, Sabina looked 
at his watch, and addressing Walter, remarked: “I have 
ordered a few special articles for lunch to-day, and I shall 
take it as a favor if you will both join me in the saloon.” 

“ This is what Walter would call a special retainer,” said 
Burk, “ and as I am not aware of its being in violation of 


112 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


the rules of the Club, I am most happy to accept your invi- 
tation.” 

In descending the staircase after Sabina, Burk found an 
opportunity to whisper Walter: “He is stingy, a spoony, 
awfully given to Bible societies, tea-parties, and that sort of 
thing ; rich as a plmn-pudding, and no fiiends ; a Miss 
Nancy of a fellow.” 

The lunch which was ordered, however, did not confirm 
this opinion, for it was of some very choice, expensive 
dishes, and wines with brands of the first quality. 

“ You have not informed us, Walter,” said Burk, pouring 
out some sparkling hock, “ you have not informed us to what 
circumstance we are indebted for yom* visit to the Club at 
this hour in the day ?” 

“ That is true. You remind me that I came up to invite 
verbally and especially a few of my friends to a small gather- 
ing at our house to-morrow evening, where we expect to see 
you.” 

“ I frn much obliged to you, Walter ; but what was the 
especial necessity for the trouble about me ? A note intrust- 
ed to that damsel, Theodolinda, would have been sufiicient.” 

“ I hope you will bring your friend Mr. Sabina with you. 
It would be an additional pleasure.” 

Sabina bowed his thanks for the compliment, as Burk 
exclaimed, laying down his fork : 

“ That will suit Don Nicolas admii-ably. Trenk will be 
sure to be there.” 

“ I may say we expect the gentleman’s presence, if that 
is any inducement to Mr. Sabina.” 

“ We were talking about the Orpheiferous individual 
before you came in, Walter, and the Don desired to become 
acquainted with him.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


113 


“ If you are fond of music, Mr. Sabina, you will have no 
cause to regret an introduction.” 

“ I was struck with his talent last evening at our church, 
and should be much pleased to hear him again.” 

The gentlemen hereupon separated, as Walter had to see 
some more of the “ babes,” who were now crowding the 
saloon. 


CHAPTER X. 

Mrs. Yandorp, the lady mentioned in the last chapter as 
the aged relative of young Burk, although long past her 
prime of life, and not possessing any personal attractions, 
must in her youth have been blessed with more than a com- 
mon share of beauty. An antique portrait which still graced 
one of the parlors, represented her as a yomig lady of com- 
manding figure, rosy complexion, a prominent nose, with 
piercing, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a delicately formed 
mouth, in which determination and high spirit were strongly 
marked. A tradition prevailed in the collateral branches of 
the family that her happiness was destroyed in early life by 
an unfortunate love affair. A few facts, however, only Avere 
known, and those so imperfectly that many supposed all to 
be fable. The old family servants would not speak upon the 
subject, and w^hatever they knew or had learned by tale or 
history remained undivulged. 

Born in the last century, and educated in the aristocratic 
principles of that period, she imbibed all the prejudices of 
the circle in which she moved. A belle, a beauty, an heiress 
of an old family, she was caressed by the distinguished men 


114 


THE METROPOLITES. 


of her time, and courted by several whose names have since 
become historical. But it is said she slighted them all for a 
fashionable young gentleman, educated in Paris, who returned 
when the Jacobins obtained the upper hand in France. This 
young man was said to have been her cousin, of an aristocratic 
family, but whose father had somewhat damaged his stand- 
ing by entering into commercial pursuits, in which he was 
successful, and in which his son was, or was to be, his suc- 
cessor. The elegance of manners and the accomplishments 
of the yoimg merchant, along with his great personal attrac- 
tions, had induced the then Fanny Ormond to smile upon 
him. But it was long, imbued as she was in her high caste, 
before she could bring her mind to tolerate him as a suitor. 
No objections arose in any quarter to her choice, as the 
lover moved in the same society with her, and was generally 
supposed to be as wealthy, although she considered it some 
slight sacrifice of position in accepting him. But as the 
])rejudices of that age are now forgotten or unknown, it 
would be idle to speculate upon them. 

Some time after it was announced the engagement was 
broken, accompanied with a vague rumor that the lover had 
put an end to it. Why or wherefore was never known. It 
was never explained even to Fanny herself. After this 
event, his father suffered by the French seizures of American 
vessels, and the young man wont back to Paris to obtain 
some indemnity from the First Consul for the spoliation, 
which was the last known to this imperfect tradition of his 
history. What the young lady thought of this conduct, or 
how much she suffered, was not learned by those around her. 
She mingled in society as before, and was even more expen- 
sive and elegant in her toilette. Still her deportment under- 
went a change. She was not so joyous or enthusiastic in 


THE METROPOLITES. 


115 


her feelings, nor so affable to her admirers in general. Y et 
for a while she courted popularity, and was far more lavish 
in her expenditures. Gradually, however, she withdrew in a 
great measure from the gay world, and finally her friends 
heard without astonishment that she was afiianced to an old 
gentleman, formerly a gallant ofiicer in the war. The old 
hero, Vandorp, must have been ardent in his love, for, in 
defiance of all hereditary pride, he broke the entails on his 
landed estates,' and settled all upon his young wife, reserving 
the revenues only to himself during his lifetime. 

The lady desired her husband to move to a country seat 
on the Hudson, as she wished seclusion. But the old soldier, 
not reconciled to quit the festive bottle and boon companions 
with whom he fought over his battles, objected ; and there- 
fore, as a compromise, at last consented that his wife should 
choose a new residence not farther than two miles from the 
Tontine Hotel, in Water street, anywhere on the island, 
which would surely be far enough from the city. With this 
understanding she selected beyond the King’s Farm a field 
of twenty acres that belonged to her, for a future residence, 
and built the mansion to which allusion has been made 
above. Ko expense was spared in making the house impos- 
ing, magnificent, and comfortable, according to the taste of 
those times. Hewn stone, elaborate marbles, carving in 
wood, oak wainscots and cornices, and thick, massive balus- 
trades of walnut, with solid mahogany doors and frames, still 
attest the labor bestowed upon it, while every article of furni- 
ture, either useful or ornamental, was imported. At the pre- 
sent d;iy it rears its antique walls and steep roofs, a quaint 
relic of the past, recalling the architecture of that period in a 
former century, when a learned High Dutch geographer 
described the city of Albany, or rather its people, as plea- 


116 


THE METROPOLITES. 


santly situated near tlie river, “containing two hundred 
houses and a thousand inhabitants, with all their gable-ends 
to the street.” 

In that spacious mansion the proud lady lived, dispensing 
her sumptuous hospitality. Here were two children born 
unto her, but dying in their infancy ; and here was the vete- 
ran Yandorp gathered to his fathers, to be entombed with 
military honors at the Trinity burial-ground. 

After the death of her husband the widow’s establishment 
underwent a reform in the household, and some of the old 
servants whom Yandorp knew in his campaigns, or their 
children, for whom he had a partiality and consequently 
employed by him, w'ere dismissed by the imperious matron 
as too dissipated or disrespectful in their manners. These 
discarded servants, bearing no good-will to her, were wont 
to tell of some singular habits in their late mistress; of 
shutting herself up for days in a private apartment, secluded 
from all save a confidential dame long in the family, where 
moans and shrieks were overheard, when no doubt some 
former trouble came back to torment this proud, unfeeling 
woman. On one occasion the footman called in, found her 
on the floor in convulsions, with an old letter lying at her 
side. He did hot read it all, but something was in that 
letter about a young man loving her more than all else on 
earth ; that he could love no other in this world ; but to for- 
get him, or forgive him, or hate him, or something, to save 
him from the remorse which must otherwise embitter his 
life. Some said her fits came on through hate, deadly hate 
to that young man ; others said she still loved him ; but all 
agreed it was the one or the other feeling. 

Many y cal's thereafter it was known an event had oc- 
curred deeply affecting her, at which time her physician re- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


117 


ported she had broken a blood-vessel. This crisis passed 
away,^and a period of partial tranquillity followed, in which 
her attacks were neither frequent nor violent. But again, 
when least expected, after an interval of three or four years, 
the flood-gates of her memory were opened anew, and love 
hate, revepge, and remorse burst forth in torrents of passion 
Her medical attendant, something of a male gossip, spoke of 
her case as singular, and mentioned some of her symptoms. 
But even this event was so long ago, that mothers told their 
marriageable daughters of it as an occurrence happening 
when tliey first went into company. 

Instead of withdrawing from society as she grew older, 
the venerable widow seemed each year to enlarge the circle 
of her acquaintance, and was seen more frequently in public. 
Perhaps her physicians advised this ; perhaps she found in it 
a relief. But many ascribed it to a more benevolent motive. 
They said, as the city inci-eased, her premises were encroach- 
ed upon by persons building in the vicinity, and that many 
of these new neighbors were descendants of youthful asso- 
ciates ; and that if she now kept up a recognition of all the 
families whom she had once known, her visiting-list would 
embrace thousands. A young mother, whose husband was 
struggling into position, was often surprised to learn from 
her little children on their return from a walk, that the old 
lady in the “ queer stone house ” had stopped the nurse, and 
called them in to inquire their names and kiss them, saying 
she had known their great-grandmamma, or some other long 
forgotten ancestor ; and after showing them the pictures, she 
had given them cherries, and let them pick their little bas- 
kets full of strawberries, roses, and honeysuckles. Others, 
again, without any pretension to fashionable life, were 
waited on by her, and invited to call, on the strength of 


118 


THE METROPOLITES. 


her knowing some aged relatives, many years in their 
graves. 

But in all these attentions the pride of family was the 
ruling motive. It was names, not wealth, by which she was 
guided in her choice of company ; for she entirely ignored 
those new neighbors who had suddenly become rich, in pre- 
cisely the same manner that they ignored those who were 
only in moderate circumstahces, however respectable. 

As the streets and stately houses began to surround her, 
the venerable antique mansion each day became more con- 
spicuous from its incongruity to the neighboring architecture. 
It seemed that long rows of buildings w^ere gradually march- 
ing by lines of streets and columns of avenues to attack her 
feudal castle ; that an unceasing sap under the hill on which 
she resided was soon, by the aid of the long trains of earth- 
carts, to be successful ; while the perpetual explosion of gun- 
powder in the adjoining stone quarries resembled the roar of 
siege guns. 

But as they mined, she threw up trenches; with every 
blast in the quarries, she raised new stone parapets. Thus, 
her outer walls resembled bastions, with embrasures, and the 
grounds above were so many earthworks, escarpments, 
esplanades, fosses, and covered ways, vdth green sod and moss 
engineering ; and a glacis rich in roses, and vines, and berries, 
and fruit, with trellises as blinds to conceal the movements 
of the besieged. Moreover, the children for many squares 
around would not go to sleep until told the legend about old 
Diedrich Yandorp, in a Continental uniform, marching at 
midnight round the premises, blowing a horn, and drinking 
out of a bottle, until, out of breath, his nose grew red with 
the morning sun, when he retired to Fort Washington to 
the soldiers’ graveyard. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


119 


It must be confessed the old mansion and grounds began, 
by means of these external improvements, to present an 
imposing and cheerful aspect, not unlike the smiling counte- 
nance of a venerable grandmother whom a spoilt child com- 
pels to place on her white lOcks the saucy darling little straw 
bonnet, full of bright ribbons, artificial flowers, and fashion- 
able trimmings. In truth, the embellishments were of such 
appropriate taste, that many strangers in passing wondered 
if the house and all were not of recent structure, designed 
by some rich proprietor to blend the modem ornamental with 
the solid antique, to exhibit wealth and skill in architecture 
at the same time. 

Xo lady could be more hospitable, kind, and attentive to 
those once admitted to her threshold. To the young, her 
conversation was replete with amusing anecdotes of the past, 
and to others her historical reminiscences possessed not only 
absorbing interest, but also intrinsic value as mementoes of 
former times. In general company at other places she was 
much more reserved and silent, but still her deportment was 
pleasing, which made her presence acceptable to all, both 
young and old. 

On stated evenings, when she threw open her doors for 
the reception of friends, the spacious rooms and corridors 
were crowded with the most respectable and distinguished 
of the city ; for it was estimated as a mark of some import- 
ance to be seen in the brilliant throng whose position entitled 
them to her acquaintance. The entertainment dispensed to 
her guests on these occasions was marked with a profusion and 
variety of delicacies characteristic of the last century, but yet 
blended with the taste of this age, until one was at a loss in 
deciding whether most to admire the extended scale of the 
festivity, or the ease and elegance with which it was served. 


120 


THE METROPOLITES. 


That she should at times exclude herself from all society, 
even closing her hospitable doors to ordinary visitors, was 
well known. But these periods were noted, and much 
spoken of as peculiar, and for her sake much to be regretted. 
She sought sympathy from none ; nor would she have encou- 
raged the approaches of any desiring her confidence. Thus 
the Lady Dowager, as the young people playfully called her, 
was esteemed by them as a remarkable personage, and a 
very useful member of the fashionable world. 

The duties she imposed upon her young kinsman, Burk, 
w'ere neither onerous nor incessant. He was always to be 
seen with her on visits of ceremony, and at church, or at 
those evening parties she honored with her presence. When 
she extended invitations to dine, or when her doors were 
thrown open for her evening receptions, the young gentleman 
assisted in dispensing her hospitality. Beyond these services 
his time was at his owm disposal. 


CHAPTER XI. 

When Burk left the Club late in the afternoon, the effects 
of different stimulants imbibed through the day had not 
passed off. He was in that happy, loquacious mood which is 
one of the mellow symptoms left of recent dissipation. A 
subsiding hiccough was in his throat and an oscillation in his 
movements. He had hardly stepped beyond the presence 
of Theodolinda and regained the street, when he was 
accosted by a slim, little, middle-aged man, dressed in a suit 
of new black broad.cloth, exhibiting the utmost neatness and 
attention to his external appearance. He was smoothly 


THE METROPOLITES. 


121 


shaved, without whiskers or gloves ; and, altogether, resem- 
bled some thriving industrious tradesman. 

“ Mr. Burk,” said he, with great respect in his manner, 

“ will you permit me to detain you for a moment ?” 

“Certainly,” said Burk, “certainly, Jimmy; what’s up? 
Anything out to-day ?” 

“ hTot anything particular, thank you.” 

“What’s the color in gloves, Mr. Dewlap, which you • 
sport — white, straw, brown, or black ? Is it a baby, ball, a 
bridal, or burial festivity ?” 

“ Well, I rather think it is dancing, sir.” 

“ Jimmy, you’re a Christian ; you weep with those Tvho 
rejoice, and take champagne with people in tears, or words 
to that effect.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Dewlap, “I make myself useful to my 
customers.” 

“ Useful, did you say, in your modesty ? You are orna- 
mental, sublime, voluptuous!” 

“ ]VIi-. Burk, can you tell me where I will find Mr. Trenk, 
the young gentleman who is an acquaintance of yours?” 
asked he, desirous to come to business at once. 

“ Trenk, did you say ? And find him at this hour ?” 

“ Yes, sir; you would oblige me by letting me know.” • 

“Trenk in daylight, Jimmy! Why, you might as well 
look for stars or fire-flies. Trenk and sunshine ; that’s good, 
anyhow; that’s a joke,” and he shook his fat sides in silent 
maudlin laughter. 

“ I wish to know where his rooms are ?” 

“ Look in the ailantus trees, Jimmy ; but no, their leaves 
are falling, and the lindens are fading. Well, try the con- 
servatories ; you may dig ^iin out of a japonica or cape- 
jasmine.” ^ 


122 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ I have a little note for him,” Dewlap explained, still 
intent on the main subject. 

“ Is it a note masculine or crinoline, that’s the question ?” 

“ It is an invitation from a lady.” 

“lYhether it is nobler in the mind,” continued Burk, “ to 
let the gin-slings and sherry-cobblers slide, or take arms 
against a sea of such good luck, is the rub, must give us 
.pause, a pair of paws. But, Jimmy, why did not the fair 
one tell you his address 

“ I think she don’t know him.” 

“Well, that’s a lady of enterprise, of great pith and 
moment. But never mind, Jimmy, I will do as well ; only 
lead me to her bower.” 

“ I could easily get you an invitation, too.” 

“ Oh, the feminine Mormon !” 

“ But it’s a dancing party, Mr. Burk.” 

“ A dancing party, a ball !” exclaimed the young gentle- 
man. “ A ball is very improper when, like oysters, out of 
season. Bal-masque, or bal-moral, which is it, Jimmy ? The 
one with only the face covered, the other with a virtuous 
petticoat to the ankle ; I am for the ‘ moral’ stripe, the moral 
suasion, which leaves the pleasures of the imagination to 
the spectator. A fancy ball, you know, is brought out to 
conundrum how the ladies would look with clothes on. 
^lo, no ! Mr. Dewlap ; my name is Joseph ; too early in the 
season ; too early at present for that, Jimmy. But give my 
compliments, the adoration of one who loves too wisely to 
love Avell, and beseech the nymph that in her liaisons be all 
my sins remembered.” 

“ She’s a married lady,” interposed Dewlap. 

“ Married, is she ? That is a superfluous surplusage, if not 
afraid to show her baptismal Anno Domini. Is she passional 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


123 


or only sensuous? Is she a subjective pitch-into-a-fellow sort 
of go-ahead ; or a quiet objective, always in the negative, 
until touched up in the tender strain, with the fingers on the 
high notes. Does she cultivate moonlight aesthetic love, or 
take it in the meridian free lunch style, with payment for the 
spiritual trimmings ?” 

“ I don’t understand you, Mr. Burk.” 

“ Then, Jimmy, you are ignorant of the Angular Saxon 
dialect, which smoothes the corners of improper words, so as 
to say anything without a blush.” 

“ But she is very respectable, rich, and well-married.” 

“ All birds of a feather ; some with nests, some only wait- 
ing to feather their nests, with the most sea-duck-tive currant 
jelly persuasion never satisfied with the same feeding- 
ground, and half the time on the wing ; the married women 
the worst. Jimmy, I cannot respond ; too early in the season 
to open either oysters or a course of lectures on hornithd- 
logy.” Whereupon he bowed politely to Dewlap and walked 
on, leaving that distinguished character at a loss for import- 
ant information. 

As the young gentleman pursued his way with muddled 
wits, he could not refrain from reflecting on the strange coin- 
cidence of two persons wdthin a few hours desiring to know 
the address of young Trenk. “ One,” muttered he to himself, 
“ like a bull-dog, wants to take him by the throat to make 
him sing Ethiopian songs sweeter than Arabian gums. The 
other — let me see, who was the other — Ophelia Dewlap, 
seizes him by the heel, gentle and low, an excellent thing in 
woman ; touches him on the tendo Achillis where so many 
men are vulnerable. A good dodge, that. If Trenk were 
green it would take. Then his white, downy mustache looks 
so much like fresh Durham cream that these little kittens 


124 


THE METROPOLITES. 


come to taste it and get a scratch or two.” With such sage 
reflections the fat young gentleman pursued his walk. 

Mr. Dewlap stood on the pavement for a moment quite 
undecided as to his future movements. Mr. Dewlap had 
his hat full of invitations of all kinds, but those intended for 
this dancing party were the most pressing. He was particu- 
larly requested to see Mr. Trenk, to prevail on him to come ; 
while the other cards were for such young gentlemen as he 
might think proper to honor. He must now defer his search 
after Trenk, to decide upon the list he would make of the 
other availables. Some of these young gentlemen were, in 
his discriminating mind, a “ touch above” the quality of the 
lady, and some others were a “ touch below” the right social 
altitude. But it did not require much reflection, as he 
walked up the street to Broadway, for this able diplomatist 
to arrange the names and to make the proper selection. 

It was a slight rnistake on the part of the sagacious Dew 
lap in supposing the lady was not personally known to Mr, 
Trenk. She had waltzed with him on several evenings only 
a short time before at Saratoga, and was desirous to renew 
acquaintance on her return to the city. She was a young 
married lady, quite ambitious of distinction, or at least of 
attention in fashionable life, and determined in the ensuing 
season to enjoy it. With this intent, Mrs. Laura had com- 
menced her campaign while her rivals were yet in summer 
cantonments in the country. Many strategetical points 
could thus be obtained in taking the field early. She could 
secure the attendance of various gentlemen who would have 
too much on their hands in the winter; and she flattered 
herself that, once under her pictures and superb frescoes, she 
could make her house sufticiently agreeable, for them to 
attend her bidding, more especially attend to her when she 


THE METROPOLITES. 


125 


was abroad. Graceful in the ball-room, she wished a partner 
who could assist in setting off her attractions ; therefore she 
had been struck with Trenk’s accomplishments in waltzing, 
and no less delighted to find, after being accidentally intro- 
duced to him for a partner, that he was of a very exclusive 
set at the springs, and reputed to be of great wealth. 

Mrs. Laura was not of an old family, but of a very 
respectable position while a maiden without fortune. lYell 
educated, accomplished, and pretty, she had married a gen- 
tleman without much cultivation of mind or manners, whose 
only recommendation to her was his independent income, 
made in a few years at the Corn Exchange. For the first 
two seasons after marriage, her efforts to establish herself in 
a good circle were not successful. She had failed, as many 
others fail, in consequence of believing a fine style of living 
and handsome entertainments would make her plenty of the 
right sort of friends. These afforded enough of visiting 
acquaintances, but she was conscious they were not the most 
congenial to be had, and resolved either to have agreeable 
society or have none at all. She had called into her service 
Jimmy Dewlap, to assist in her efforts. But Jimmy was not 
taken into her counsels to the extent he aspired, nor as far 
as he was in the cabinet of many more favorably situated. 
His counsel and advice were not graciously received, 
although gratuitously offered. It was his knowledge of the 
individual standing of ladies and gentlemen she wished to 
profit by ; and no one in the city knew so well the relative 
position of everybody as that sleek little man. 

Mr. Dewlap pursued his course and cogitations at the same 
time towards Broadway. On entering that crowded street 
lie encountered a gentleman well known to him, yet whom 
he hesitated to accost, as it seemed, even to him, rather im- 


126 


THE METROPOLITES. 


pertinent to ask for instruction from such a source about the 
lodgings of a young gentleman. But at last his blushes 
yielded to business, as he touched his hat very obsequiously. 
The gracious gentleman returned the salutation, and Dewlap 
thus emboldened, came to a pause, as he said : 

“Will Mr. Nevil permit me to inquire the address of 
young Mr. Trenk ?” 

Mr. Nevil slowly and doubtingly shook his head, as he 
answered: “You may obtain the information at the music 
store below Bleecker.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Dewlap, as he was about moving 
on, when Nevil further remarked: “I wish you would call 
on me at ten to-morrow, if convenient.” 

“ Certainly, with great pleasure,” said the complacent 
Dewlap, delighted with the prospect of some profitable job. 

It was not long before he was possessed of the direction 
to Mr. Trenk’s lodgings, and was rapidly walking in a street 
leading to the east out of Broadway. He ascended the steps 
to the front door of a large brown-stone house and rang the 
bell, when he was instantly ushered into a sumptuous, spa- 
cious suite of parlors on the first floor, where he gave the 
servant his card for Mr. Trenk. 

In a few moments the young gentleman entered, and rather 
surprised to find his visitor, without any ceremony, seated on 
one of the satin damask chairs. Dewlap hastened to regain 
his feet, and with his peculiar manner, handed him the note 
from the lady, at the same time remarking that an answer 
was requested. Hathan placed his elbow on the beautiful 
Italian carved marble mantel, and leisurely opening the enve- 
lope to withdraw the note, scanned its contents. “ I shall 
attend to this, Mr. Dewlap,” said he, placing the billet in his 
pocket. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


127 


“ Shall I tell the lady that she may expect you ?” 

“ Did she require a verbal answer, sir ?” 

“ By no manner of means ; by no manner, Mr. Trenk. 
But you see, as I was uncertain, I thought” — here Jimmy 
fairly broke down and became silent, with his mouth open. 

Trenk smiled as he remarked : ‘‘You know it is only 
ladies who intrust you with messages, and I cannot tell how 
far you are to be relied on by gentlemen in such important 
matters.” 

This amiable speech entirely reassured the little man, who 
immediately found words to reply. 

“ Thank you, thank you. But if you should need my ser- 
vices, I am always on hand. Now you see,” said he, in a 
half-confidential whisper, “ a good many little pleasant par- 
ties are soon coming off in the first families, rich, and all that 
sort of thing ; pretty young ladies and fine suppers, and if 
you wish it, I can get you lots of cards without any trouble.” 

“ But I may not know the people.” 

“That’s nothing, that’s nothing. They would all be glad 
to have you at their houses.” 

“ But who is to introduce me,” said Trenk, smiling, “ when 
I know nothing about them, nor they know me ?” 

“ The easiest thing in the world, sir ; always some 
acquaintance going, who can make you known, and once 
introduced, there’s the end of it.” 

“I think few gentlemen would be willing to be made 
acquainted on those terms.” 

Mr. Dewlap smiled calmly at Trenk’s innocence of the 
ways of the world. “ Here I have in my hat lining a good 
many cards of that sort for handsome young gentlemen, 
who are always glad to go when I arrange it for them. 
They are my sub-rosians, as I call them ; and I assure you the 


128 


THE METROPOLITES. 


demands for sucli invitations are more numerous than I can 
supply.” 

Trenk mused over this piece of information in silence, 
until the persuasive Dewlap, mistaking the current of his 
thoughts, added: “ I can let you pick three or four for your- 
self,” at the same time exhibiting the contents of his hat. 

“ Not at present,” said Trenk, hastily. “I am not in want 
of society for the present,” bowing his visitor to the door. 

Dewlap retired sadly discomforted. He had hoped to 
place Trenk on his free list of sub-rosians, thereby bringing 
additional honor to himself as a skilful diplomatist ; for 
diplomacy is seldom without profit, which was always the 
leading motive with this little man. 

Nathan Trenk waited until his visitor was ushered beyond 
the front door, when once more placing his elbow on the 
Italian marble, he carefully read over the invitation from 
Mrs. Laura. He was in doubt whether he should renew the 
acquaintance, as his visiting-list Avas noAV almost too ex- 
tended. Throwing himself on one of the luxurious sofas, he 
gave way to profound meditation, where he need not be 
disturbed. 

The house in which he was thus found so comfortable was • 
one of much elegance and ornament united in the decoration 
and furniture. In this attractive mansion Mr. Trenk had his 
rooms, consisting of the entire range of the third story. 
His usual good fortune had thrown him into the possession 
of them; and his pretty face, wdth winning manners, had 
been the principal persuasives in his favor. 

Mrs. Russell, a widow lady with two children, had been 
left by her husband’s will in possession of this and other pro- 
perty during her life. Neither wishing to sell, nor in fact 
empowered to part Avith it, she had remained, but Avithout 


THE METROPOLITES. 


129 


having any occupant for the third and foiu'tli stories. De- 
sirous to rent these to some gentleman who would he no 
trouble, and at the same time take off the gloom of so much 
space unoccupied, and perhaps afford society to her small 
family, she readily closed with the offer of Xathan, at a 
moderate rent, three years previous. 

Having now found him at his lodgings, it may be as well 
to ascertain what he has been doing since his last appear- 
ance. Resolved* to study law, he entered himself in the 
office of the distinguished counsellor, Mr. Mansfield. Xext, 
he had examined the present state of his finances, to ascertain 
how he could most suitably accommodate himself in propor- 
tion to his funds. On leaving college, he had brought with 
him the enormous sum of thirteen hundred dollars, which his 
good cousin. Miss Howard, had been enabled to hoard for 
him. His wardrobe was complete, except those mutations 
which must always take place in strict conformity to the 
innovating fashions. Under the judicious advice of the same 
good cousin, he made an investment in a watch and other 
jewelry, which left him, when some more expenses were 
deducted, in possession of only nine hundred. He had 
learned that the annual subsidy of five hundred would still 
be lodged at a mercantile house for his support. With this 
scant supply he undertook his new life of study and society. 
With all the counsels of the good cousin still cherished, and 
the greatest economy on his part, soon came the knowledge 
that one thousand a year must be absorbed in his quiet mode 
)f fashionable existence. Energetic and ambitious, he Avas 
early at his books in his own delightful apartments. By 
noon he had completed his allotted task of study for each 
day. In a short time after that hour he was seen in the law 
i)ffice of his preceptor, diligent in copying some legal docu- 

G* 


180 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ment or listening to whatever business was transpiring. 
Frequently he visited the courts ; and again he undertook to 
become familiar in the practice, and by other means to per- 
fect himself in his profession. His aim was to be hailed as a 
distinguislied counsellor and advocate, for he aspired to 
become an orator. At sundown he, returned to his rooms, 
where, after an hour’s repose, he was ready for the pleasures 
of the evening. 

He renewed his acquaintance with the lyi-ic and other 
artists at the opera ; and, in truth, became known to all those 
who wished for success before the footlights. His gentle, 
quiet manners, along with his accomplishments, rendered him 
a desirable acquaintance ; nor was it many days before 
impresarios, managers, music-venders, and dramatic reporters 
for the public journals found him a useful ally. The just 
criticism he frankly pronounced at all times induced them to 
listen, the latter, especially, to borrow for their columns. He 
was so well known that he was versed in the history of each 
artist, thus making his information extensive and accurate 
about everything transpiring in the green room. Having 
admission behind the scenes, his face was familiar in those 
regions very wisely closed to the external world. One pos- 
sessed of a tithe of his merits would soon have been made 
free at all times to^ the house, and thus without any solicita- 
tion, he was in possession of an unlimited supply of tickets. 
Sometimes it was known that, in rehearsal, he took part in 
order to accommodate the manager or artist, in case of acci- 
dent, and when the orchestra required training. But this 
was seldom, and only in the evening. Nathan was conscious 
of the embaiTassment which must ultimately ensue to him 
frona his expenses exceeding his income ; but, with a provi- 
dent reflection, he found that he might turn his musical 


THE METROPOLITES. 


131 


knowledge to some profit. He soon came to an understand- 
ing with the dramatic reporters for his unwritten services to 
them, and in some publisliing speculations he was hand- 
somely remunerated from the music stores. 

He had also a reward from a quarter the least expected. 
Soon after becoming a tenant of Mrs. Russell, he perceived 
the strong passion for music of her little daughter, an inte- 
resting cripple of fourteen years. Occasionally he was in 
time to escort the helpless child to a matinee, and Avhen that 
was not convenient, he would hasten to take both mother 
and child in the evenings. The emotions of delight mani- 
fested by the afflicted creature were a source of pleasure. 
The mother, looking worlds of gratitude to him, tried to 
give utterance of her thankful feelings. In a short time 
the ushers and other employes, becoming familiar with the 
appearance of the mother and afflicted child, as the friends 
of Mr. Treuk, enabled them to attend the matinees ^vdthout 
any further escort, as they received tlie most sedulous atten- 
tion on entering, in being provided with choice seats. On 
the request, too, of Hathan, the managers were always most 
happy to admit them to rehearsals, a favor accorded to few. 

Such unexpected kindness from Hathan induced Mrs. 
Russell, in the fulness of her heart, to endeavor to requite 
the obligation she supposed was incurred. Gradually a 
thousand little attentions on her part had led to greater 
friendship and intimacy, until he became, in her estimation, 
one of the family, and cherished as such. Her little son, a 
fine boy of two or three summers, and her helpless daughter, 
were much disappointed if an evening passed without a visit 
fi om him in the parlor or at the tea-table ; while the kind 
mother’s eyes beamed with delight at the pleasure his pre- 
sence imparted to her little family. 


132 


THE METROPOLITES. 


The widow was fully impressed with Nathan’s wealth from 
his personal appearance alone. She was equally satisfied of 
his exalted position in society, from the quantity of notes in 
pretty envelopes daily handed in at the front door to his 
address. That he should he so intimate and infiuential with 
artists was no less convincing ; while his large supply of 
opera tickets was proof positive, to her innocent understand- 
ing, of his prodigality. Then to crown all, that he, so rich 
and fascinating, and caressed by the dress circle, should leave 
those beautiful creatures in enchanting full evening costume to 
come and sit by her and her darling little afflicted one, was far 
too much for her ever to expect, let alone express in words. 
But the gi’ateful widow had to undergo one trial which almost 
broke her heart to think of. Quarter-day coming round, 
when Nathan would be sure to pay the stipulated sum for 
rent, how could she take it, and yet how refuse it — perhaps 
cause him to seek other apartments ? The amount was of no 
consequence to her, as she was well provided without it. 
But before she had resolved upon what to do, the day 
arrived. Nathan, of course, handed her the money, when 
she bm'st into a flood of tears, and in sobs exclaimed : “No, 
no ! You have been too much like a brother to my afflicted 
darling ever to accept any money more from you. I wish 
you to stay ; we all would grieve if you leave us and half- 
choking, added : “ If kindness could be repaid by gold, we 

would aU be in your debt.” Then, after another shower of 
tears, she cried : “ I know money is no object to you, but 

still I cannot accept any.” Herfe the tear-storm came on 
again with renewed violence, and was abated only by an 
assurance from Nathan that he had no intention of leavino- ; 
and, as to rent, she could fix her own price upon her rooms, 
as it was a matter entirely under her own control. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


loo 

AYhile Nathan pursued his walk down-town, the weeping 
widow sat at her sewing, half muttering to herself : How 
foolish I have made myself by crying at such a trifle, as he 
thought it was only a trifle. Hereupon the tears dropped 
from her eyes, which she wiped away, and after much diffi- 
culty she threaded her needle, to blush again at her folly, 
when he thought it only such a trifle. “ TY ell, it is all over, 
anyhow !” she exclaimed, drawing a deep sigh ; “ and I feel 
easier about it. How his mother must have loved him, poor 
fellow !” 

Nathan had his own thoughts as he walked down Broad- 
way. “ It must be a good thing to be rich, for I find it very 
comfortable to have even the reputation.” TTith this reflec- 
tion he turned into Tiffany’s to purchase a box of ivory 
dominoes for the little- boy and a pretty ring for the 
daughter. He paid for them with a gold piece, and directed 
them to be sent home. 

“Well,” said a fashionable young lady to her companion, 
as he quitted the establishment, “ well, there is one good 
trait about him, anyhow ; with all his dissipation and extra- 
vagance, he has a good heart in spending so much money 
in presents to little children.” 

YThen a person’s actions and motives are, for the most 
part, unknown, if carefully observed he is liable to create 
false impressions, like objects seen dimly in moonlight. In 
the same way it pleased Nathan’s good fiiends, from the 
little which they knew about him, to fiU up his whole bio- 
graphy with a fancy sketch, with the most natural and agree- 
able outlines to themselves. Denpng admittance to all visi- 
tors in the morning, it was easy to suppose he was sleeping 
ofi" the last night’s excesses ; and if seen in Wall street in 
the afternoon, in the vicinity of the law office, he was pre- 


134 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


Slimed to be in search of that golden talisman so powerful 
bath ill oriental and occidental enchantments. The reports 
Avhich sometimes extended beyond the dressing-rooms of 
prime-donne and sylphids, conveyed in a lunar obscurity, were 
in keeping with all other information about him. If he were 
seen telling a laughing, dancing nymph from Bohemia or 
Biscay, of the compliments bestowed upon her by an admir- 
ing public whose language she had never learned, her 
blushes were taken for confessions of improper confidence to 
another tale from his flattering tongue ; and if a pritna 
donna^ with pensive brow, told him of her thousand troubles, 
he was believed to have been the cause of her sorrow, and 
intended adding new griefs where kindly he was imparting 
consolation. 


CHAPTER Xn. 

Pressing invitations had been annually extended to Xa- 
than from his friends at the Bruidoaks to spend some por- 
tion of the summer season with them, which he had accepted ; 
and he was always a most welcome addition to the choice 
circle of distinguished people met with at the villa. The 
yacht was ever at his disposal ; and in it he would cruise in 
all directions, with some pleasant party on board under his 
sailing orders. When he returned from these delightful 
reunions to his rooms and law office in the city, he had 
a thousand commissions to execute for the novel-readino- 
matron ; nor was he ever wanting in a letter from her every 
few weeks. As these commissions were generally for the 
purchase of new and expensive books, or jewelry, or other 


THE METROPOLITES. 


135 


articles more extravagant than useful, ^^’athan became an 
acceptable and valuable customer at book-stores and places 
where his fashionable acquaintances were to be met with 
when shopping. 

This lady of the Druidoaks had resolved on a visit to Sara 
toga with her family, and it was most convenient for her to 
have Nathan in her suite, to whom she had written. The 
Hon. Mr. Dryvis found time to write to him, also, on the 
subject, stating that pressing engagements prevented his 
travelling with his family, and desiring Nathan to take the 
charge of them. This was a very flattering as well as pleas- 
ing duty for the young man, and consequently he was seen 
at Saratoga soon after. The lady, with her brilliant equip- 
age and lavish style of living, was, however, exclusive in 
that gay throng ; nor was it many days before she became 
tired of the heat and monotony of the place, and displeased 
with the discomforts to which she was subjected. 

Leaving these springs, she hastened on to Sharon. In the 
high hills and purer air she foimd more personal comfort, 
and, above all, many friends with whom her hours could pass 
agreeably. At first the change was not so acceptable to 
Nathan, as he missed that whirl of excitement and gaiety he 
had left at Saratoga. But in a few days he discovered if he 
had lost one set of pleasant acquaintances, he had found ano- 
ther no less agreeable. He was now among very many dis- 
tinguished people, foreign ministers, European travellers, 
and tliose celebrated at home as statesmen, diplomatists, 
jurists, or advocates, and of all the other honorable profes- 
sions of the land. With these were associated the families 
of the old and most wealthy of both the North and South. 
It seemed to Nathan that those who were the most renowned 
and the greatest ornaments of society had assembled here 


136 


THE METROPOLITES. 


for relaxation until the heats Of summer were passed, regard- 
less of the • fashionable world at other places, and desirous 
only of the fresh air of the mountains, and the pleasant soci- 
ety of each other in excursions among the hills or in social 
communion under the stately colonnade in the perpetual cool 
evenings. 

It was no reflection on Nathan’s good taste to find him 
lingering on the porch listening to conversation among a 
knot of gentlemen discussing some grave, but to him deeply 
interesting question, while the ladies, many of bewitching 
loveliness, were awaiting impatiently his presence. He 
turned with a sigh from the gentlemen, where he had been 
silent, to become an actor among a circle of beauties who at 
another time would have had undivided fascinations for him. 

The society at Sharon reminded him of the company often 
assembled at the Druidoaks. The difference, however, was 
in the prevailing topics discussed. At the banker’s 'villa, 
whatever extent of information and talent was displayed, 
they were made secondary and subordinate to considerations 
of success in business affairs, as though every topic was 
viewed through a commercial medium ; until one thoroughly 
infected with that atmosphere must in time have become 
inclined to estimate every important event with reference 
only to its mercantile value. In discussing men and their 
motives, however, a thorough insight into human nature was 
displayed, which evinced a perfect freedom from local or 
party prejudice, and a more liberal view of the various 
influences actuating the conduct of individuals. 

Those, on the contrary, with whom Nathan was now in 
contact, were men of more enlarged understandings, greater 
cultivation of varied talents, and extensive knowledge, with 
perhaps less attention to personal accomplislmients, with the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


137 


exception of accomplishments of an intellectual cast, such as 
poetry and otliers like it, those pleasing hirthlets of litera- 
ture and science. History, and its kindred studies ; govern- 
ment and statistics, upon which it may be said to be founded ; 
the influence of education, of passion, of principle, of climate, 
of moral culture, of interest, and of luxury, on individuals 
and nations ; voyages, travels, and discoveries, with that 
familiarity with both ancient and modern learning charac- 
teristic of the student — all seemed to have been the constant 
thought and care of these with whom he now associated. 
In a word, they appeared to have read much, observed more, 
and reflected most upon all those subjects interesting to the 
mind which were to a great degree ignored at the banker’s ; 
and, besides this, the money article in their universal journal 
of information was the column which they dwelt least 
up6n. 

Impressed, as Nathan had been, with the intellectual supe- 
riority of the society at the Druids, and hoping some day to 
equal what he there witnessed around him, he now beheld the 
vast intellectual supremacy of this new circle of friends to those 
at the banker’s. Where he formerly looked on in admiration, 
he now stood almost spell-bound, boy-like, in awe at the 
range, the grasp, and versatility of the human understanding, 
which a few casual and aj^parently careless remarks would 
unfold. These pleasant, sprightly, and epigrammatic enter- 
tainments he compared in his own mind to the sports of the 
boy-god playing with thunderbolts of a higher order of 
beings. Thus, on a beautiful morning, he would often find 
several gentlemen roaming in the woods near the springs, 
and perhaps loitering on a rock, or near a fallen log, to dis- 
cuss some topic in ethical philosophy, or some novel theory 
started by one of them to elicit conversation. One day he 


138 


THE METROPOLITES. 


was gathering wild flowers alone, when he unexpectedly 
eiicoimtered a group thus occupied. They immediately made 
room right willingly for him on a fallen tree, to listen to the 
question on which they were discoursing. Nathan was 
startled with the first remark which he heard, uttered by a 
European traveller, M. Domat : 

“ I must confess that I have always thought too much im- 
portance was attached to the influence of Christianity in the 
work of civilization.” 

“ Where would be morality and honesty between man and 
man without it?” asked Mr. Gibson, an eminent lawyer. 

“Where they were among the Jews, and the primitive 
Greeks, and the old Romans, if we can believe history.” 

“But the Jews were isolated, and could not reform the 
world ; the Greeks and Romans became immoral, luxurious, 
and corrupt,” Gibson replied. 

“Especially after the Christian era.” 

“ But not by the Christians.” 

“ Christianity, therefore,” said M. Domat, “ did not save 
them, nor prevent their downfall as nations, nor their decline 
in civilization.” 

“But on their ruins modern Christian civilization has 
sprung up.” 

“ True, upon their ruins, and out of the old materials, the 
code of lavv’^s of old Rome has once more made a modern 
Roman world,” said M. Domat, “ governing the world.” 

“ Without Roman morals.” 

“Without, perhaps, the private morals of the city of 
Rome when it was no longer Roman. But in the provinces 
individual conduct was of a higher standard ; how high we 
know not.” 

“ But it is private morals which is the foundation of mo- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


139 


dern civilization, and these we derive from Christianity,” 
Gibson answered. 

“ Intelligence joined with rural pursuits will always make 
a virtuous people. But it is only good laws which will 
insure a good government, and we are more indebted to 
nations than to individuals for our present civilization. In 
other words, civilization is more indebted to the code of 
laws which protects private rights than to the Christian code, 
intended to influence individual duty.” 

“ Do I then understand you,” asked Mr. Gibson, “ to say 
that the civil code of laws has contributed as much to civili- 
zation as Christianity ?” 

“ That is the very question upon which I have long pon- 
dered. Nor must it be supposed if I answered in the 
affirmative that I admitted modern civilization to be the 
right road to the Millennium. Perhaps the world might now 
be in a more advanced state of intelligence and happiness 
without the Roman code ; perhaps it is marching on to a 
second downfall of civilization under the same compilation ; 
for it leads to private accumulations, to luxury, to selfishness 
and corruption, and consequent decay.” 

“ That is true,” said the lawyer ; “ those laws are for a 
commercial people, and their jDrinciples now form the basis 
of our jurisprudence.” 

“ Christianity in turn,” added Domat, “ is at war with 
Roman and commercial cupidity ; and if Christ were now on 
earth, perhaps he would overturn commerce as he did the 
tables of the bankers in the temple. The boast that modern 
civilization is due to Christianity may therefore be no honor 
to true religion.” 

“ You do not seem, therefore,” said the lawyer, “to have 
come to any conclusion on the subject.” 


140 


THE METJROPOLITES. 


“ Other influences are now at work,” said the traveller, 
“ unknown at the time of the downfall of the Roman empire, 
leading to a greater dissemination of intelligence, with an 
equally high development of intellect. Perhaps these may 
counteract in time the preponderating influence of, and desire 
for, wealth and luxury. Who, then, can predict the future, 
when we have nothing in the past wherewith to draw an 
accurate comparison ?” 

“We are much indebted to you, M. Domat,” said Mr. Gib- 
son, “ for your striking views on a point of such importance.” 

“ It is but a poor recompense,” he replied, bowing very 
low, “ for the valuable information at all times received re- 
specting your happy country.” 

“ Apropos of compliments,” interposed Col. Spencer, a 
rich planter, laughing, “ I must thank you for demonstrating 
that these Northern nabobs are not Christians. They are 
inclined to call us lieathens for having as many slaves as 
Abraham.” 

“ But the slaves of the patriarch,” interposed Doctor 
Gresham, “ were all idolaters, and therefore permitted as 
bondsmen.” 

“My -dear Doctor, are you turning abolitionist?” asked 
the Colonel, with a smile. 

“ Something of that character, when I find Southern gen- 
tlemen quoting Scripture to justify slavery. A weak argu- 
ment is worse than none; and as I have some interest in 
negro property, I Avish no documentary evidence of my rights 
to be drawn from Levitical law.” 

“ You prefer the Roman ?” said Col. Spencer. 

“ Yes,” said the Doctor ; “ that is the higher law on pri- 
vate rights, and under which it seems Christians make for- 
tunes.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


141 


Nathan strolled away in search of more wild flowers, in 
deep reflection. It was thus he listened daily to these dis- 
cussions, and found food for meditation and mental improve- 
ment. His attention and evident appreciation had been 
marked by the gentlemen, and when he joined them in their 
excursions they soon discovered his latent aspirations, and 
were pleased to talk to him, to solve his doubts, and point 
out the sure paths leading to future eminence and success. 
He sought out sometimes the society of M. Homat, and when 
that learned foreigner found Trenk could converse in his 
own idiom, he poured forth his stores of curious knowledge 
in copious streams. Thus willing at all times to improve 
himself, he had become marked by the gentlernan as a youth 
destined to rise in his profession ; and from his conversation 
th§y were led to accord to him the possession of a superior 
mind. He had refrained from touching the piano, and had 
been equally cautious in avoiding the ball-room. 

His attention to the ladies was only put in requisition when 
he met them at the bowling-alley, or the spring, or on those 
little excursions they took for flowers and exercise. If they 
viewed him as an ambitious young man, probably possessed 
of fortune, fond of books and the society of distinguished 
men, they were no less j)leased with his agreeable, quiet 
manners, and the want of pretension indicative of the true 
gentleman. On his part, he was charmed with these beauties 
whose position would entitle them to great admiiation in the 
most fashionable circles, thus passing their time in the sum- 
mer repose amid these rocky hills, wooded valleys, and gush- 
ing streams, enjoying what was rural, simple, and natural. 
That he had not met some of them in society the previous 
winter was altogether accidental ; partly due to their pre- 
ferrinjx small circles to the crowded saloons of their anibi- 


142 


THE METROPOLITES. 


tious lady acquaintances. They were of that class of good 
families who, recognised as among the most fashionable and 
exclusive, are still not esteemed as wedded to a continual 
round of nightly festivity. Preferring conversation to more 
exciting amusement, and books to the dull twaddle of dissi- 
pation, and poetry and painting to incessant supper-parties, 
they are seen without surprise at entertainments, or their 
absence noted without any special wonder. Thus capable 
of amusing themselves, or being amused in society, they pos- 
sessed the freshness and shrinking delicacy soon lost under a 
continual glare of gaslight in crowded rooms, and could be 
pleasing or be pleased in quiet intercourse with a few friends. 
Nathan knew these people belonged 'to the most refined and 
exclusive circles in the city, and he was gratified to be him- 
self among them on a footing to insure his renewing the 
acquaintance on their return home. His conversation and 
little services to the ladies had completely charmed them ; 
and as they imagined he was an ambitious student, deep in 
•books, and with lofty aspirations, they never dreamed he was 
possessed of accomplishments too often found only with the 
idle and dissipated, but which are equally acceptable to all 
refined people. 

Nathan had been some weeks in this cool retreat before it 
became imperative that he should make his entrance in the 
ball-room. At last a hop was to come ofi*, “ in which,” as a 
young gentleman expressed it, “the whole strength of 
Sharon was to- spread itself.” There had been much prepa- 
ration for the event, and the enthusiasm among all promised 
a complete success. The foreign ladies, especially, set their 
hearts upon it; the band of music had for weeks been hard 
at work practising pieces for the occasion. It was even 
asserted that the orchestra had in rehearsal the Saraband, a 


THE METROPOLITES. 


143 


new waltzing figure then the prevailing rage in Paris. Some 
few of the ladies had heard of it from their acquaintances 
recently on the continent, and others had noticed it men- 
tioned in the Parisian correspondence of the newspapers. 
The little danseuse from Biscay had, three months before, 
informed Nathan of this new attraction while procuring for 
him the music ; and it had been one of his speculations to 
arrange the notes for a full band of brass instruments and to 
print them. Moreover, the little ballet-dancing friend had 
kindly taught him the steps, as she was to come out in it as 
a novelty, when the autumn campaign opened at Niblo’s, 
when the gentleman arrived from Europe who was to assist 
her in the performance. 

Nathan learned the happening of some breach of faith 
abroad, the piece being brought out in Paris sooner than was 
anticipated. This had hastened him in arranging the music, 
but still it was intended the Saraband should not be pub- 
lished until after the summer season. But, from its astonish- 
ing success, this could not be controlled by the music pub- 
lishers, and Nathan first heard, with some surprise, that the 
piece was at Sharon. On the evening of the hop he had con- 
tented himself in waltzing with the little girls, his pets, those 
young begimiers who were required by their inexorable mam- 
mas to depart at a certain hour, and who were now crowding 
their enjo^unents in the term allotted. Being relieved of 
these, he joined a cluster of lady friends who were in pleas- 
ing admiration at the rich costume, and the still richer and 
brilliant display of diamonds of the lady of the Spanish 
Minister, who sat near to them in her youthful beauty and 
stately grandeui-, well content to attract the gratified atten- 
tion of so many people. She was tall, graceful, and a 
blonde; with large, speaking blue eyes, evidently enjoying 


144 


THE METROPOLITES. 


the scene around her, but as yet not taking any part in the 
dancing*. At once the orchestra in the gallery struck up a new 
air, something so novel and exhilarating that all exclaimed ; 
“ The Saraband, the Saraband !” It commenced with a 
single trumpet-call, as though invoking a knight to the lists 
of the tournament, then followed by a low, soul-subduing 
symphony on several instruments, and next succeeded by the 
full band in an exciting, thrilling gallopade, so rich and har- 
monious, with a flood of melody gushing, overpowering, and 
bearing the feelings along on its golden stream, until it was 
almost impossible to refrain from rushing forth in some wild 
dance to keep time with steps to such ecstatic sounds. The 
Spanish lady, as much excited as others, rose to her feet, and 
addressing a friend at her side in her own language, ex- 
claimed: Must I listen to that and have no one to join 

me !” She looked around, and her eyes fell upon the ladies 
with hlathan. “ Have none of these Senoritas,” said she, 
still addressing her friend, “have none of these learned 
this beautiful step 

“]^one but you, N’inia, I suppose in this place have ever 
heard it before.” 

“ Qite lastima’'’ — what a pity — murmured the beauty, sink- 
ing into her seat, in deep disappointment. 

Nathan quietly approached the foreign lady, whom he 
knew slightly, and in the most deferential tone said to her 
in pure Castilian : “ Would the Seiiorita accept me as a part- 

ner ill the Saraband ?” extending at the same time his hand 
to her. 

With that grace and ease, almost abandon, for which these 
fascinating creatures, when excited, are so celebrated, she 
seized his glove, exclaiming : “ Most willingly !” as she 

hurried him to the upper part of the ball-room. Again the 


THE METllOPOLITES. 


145 


solo-call sounded from the trumpet, and the space in the cen- 
tre of the saloon was left vacant through its entire extent. 
Again the symphony followed, but they neither moved nor 
spoke, as all eyes were fixed on their tall and graceful forms 
standing like classic statues awaiting the nod of some divin- 
ity to give them life. Another hurst of music was heard, 
and away they bounded in a whirling, maddening flight, like 
the laughing hours chased by the brilliant rays of Apollo. 
“ How beautiful !” was the exclamation on every tongue, as 
in every step was seen some new grace and charming 
novelty. Tripping down the room in rapid flight, or whirl- 
ing in the mazes of a magic waltz, or moving alone with 
the voluptuous languor of waving arms and twinkling feet, 
keeping time and gesture to each note, they slowly regained 
their first position, where the music met them with another 
maddening strain, to hurl them down the room again in 
another rapid stream of giddy, graceful motion. 

An hour after, N’athaii was seen on the colonnade seeking 
the cool breeze blowing. linear to him Mr. Gibson was seated, 
with his feet resting on a column, smoking a cigar in silent 
meditation. At last, removing it from his mouth, and 
brushing off the ashes at the end of the fragrant weed with 
his little finger, he remarked to Hath an : “ It is seldom, Mr. 

Trenk, success in the ball-room leads to success at the bar ; 
which do you prefer ?” 

“I regret,’^ said Hathan, “that you do not approve of my 
waltzing.” 

“ I beg your pardon. I not only approve, but admire it 
much, very much. It Avas a rich exhibition I shall long 
remember, as I have never witnessed its equal ; and, were I 
young again, would envy you.” 

“ Why, then, should it be an obstacle to my success ?” 

7 


146 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Because you will be too much wanted in society to resist 
its caresses and fascinations. Will you not succumb to the 
blandishments with which you are repaid ?” 

“I hope not,” said Nathan. 

“ Many a man of talents, of genius, of my acquaintance, 
has been lost in being cursed, yes, cursed, with fascinating 
accomplishments by the temptations into which they led. 
Let me hope you will remember the danger.” 


CHAPTER Xm. 

Such were some of the incidents of Nathan’s life at the 
time the accommodating Mr. Dewlap waited upon him at 
his rooms. Jimmy descended the flight of steps when the 
front door was shut behind him, shutting out at the same 
time all hope of the young gentleman’s name ever gracino* 
his free list. But as that business was ended, the considerate 
Dewlap turned his attention next to the request of Mr. Nevil, 
whom he determined to call on without fail. 

Punctual, therefore, to his appointment, the next day 
Jimmy rang at the gentleman’s door and was admitted. He 
was soon honored with a commission in Dewlap’s line of busi- 
ness, and was about taking his leave, when Nevil asked him 
carelessly if he had found Mr. Trenk. Jimmy replied that he 
had, and mentioned the street and number where he lodged. 

O 

“ Do you know much about him, Mr. Dewlap ?” 

“Nothing particular, except that he is very rich, veiy 
extravagant, very dissipated, and a pretty fast young gentle- 
man generally.” 

“Then he must have many around him to aid in spending 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


147 


pleasantly his leisure hours and spare cash,” remarked 
iN’evil. 

“ IN^ot many,” said Jimmy with a knowing look. “ He is 
deep, very deep ; I can make nothing out of him.” 

“ He must be deep in that case,” answered Nevil, thought- 
fully, with a quiet smile. 

“ I only meant to say,” Jimmy replied, correcting himself, 
“ that I can learn nothing in particular about him.” 

“ Except that he is rich, dissipated, and so forth,” said 
Hevil, as Dewlap departed. 

“ Rich,” said Hevil aloud to himself, “ very extravagant, 
very dissipated, and a pretty fast young man generally. 
Well, that is an enviable reputation to commence life with. 
Not a word of it true, yet having universal belief. Yes, 
Jimmy Dewlap, he is deep, too deep for your plmnmet. But 
is it possible the boy is playing a part, and assisting in the 
general deception ?” 

Mr. Nevil was a single gentleman, about thirty-five years 
of age, tall, muscular, with dark hair and large dark eyes, 
with beautiful features ; reputed to be a most handsome, 
intellectual, and accomplished gentleman. He resided in a 
superb house on the avenue alone with his domestics, 
although his parents and young sister dwelt only a few doors 
distant. He had graduated at Yale, and then entered the 
acjidemy at West Point to receive a military education. At 
the end of four years he was brevetted as a lieutenant in the 
army. In a few months he not only found himself with his 
regiment, but in battle. At the close of two rugged cam- 
paigns the war closed, when he resigned his commission and 
went abroad. 

It was well known that on his return he was not blessed 
with sufiiciont f rtune to be idle ; nor would it have suited 


148 


THE METROPOLITES. 


either his taste or disposition to lead an indolent life under 
any circumstances. But it was observed that all the specu- 
lations in which he embarked were prosj^erous. His cash 
account at bank was in a respectable figure, and the quantity 
of shares •of stock in railroads and other companies was 
gradually swelling in bulk in his portfolio. Yet ^Ii*. Xevil 
could not be said to be in business.. His time was generally 
spent in seclusion in some useful occupation. A few hours 
were given to YTall street, but that was all known of 1pm 
down town. He was a kind, attentive, and affectionate son 
and brother, and, of course, was the idol of his family. His 
father, an aged gentleman, formerly an extensive merchant, 
had retired in consequence of ill-health, with ample means, 
to be sure, but not with the fortune he would have ultimately 
secured. But the old gentleman, even without a princely 
income, was viewed as one of the merchant princes in retire- 
ment, from his high character and acknowledged talents. 
His son inherited the father’s genius in commercial afl^irs, 
^\'ithout, apparently, embarking actively in the pursuit. He 
declined at aU times to act as a director, or president, or 
trustee, or treasurer, or in any other capacity in the institu- 
tions where he was known. His movements, although 
closely watched in Wall street, were seldom understood by 
others until demonstrated by the results of his calculation at 
the Exchange. He avoided entering into combinations in 
any schemes afloat ; nor did he express opinions to influence 
those who desired to consult him. Silent as the statue of 
Mercury, that deity patron alike to bankers and burglars, 
he did not permit his lips to betray his thoughts or actions ; 
nor did he suffer the many whom he knew on the street ever 
to detain him in conversation. 

In a few years he was supposed to have amassed a fortune, 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


149 


while the expensiv^e establishment he now had around him 
confirmed the general opinion. 

Mr. Dewlap had scarcely left the house before Mr. Martin, 
a well known stock-broker, entered. He took a seat without 
much ceremony, and opened a bundle of papers in his 
hands. 

“ W hat news this morning said Nevil. 

“ Not much,” said the broker, still intent on his 
papers. 

“ Your bundle appears formidable. Am I to expect bad 
news ?” 

Mr. Martin with a pleasant smile answered : “ If the 

Bituminous Coal Company’s stock running down to forty, 
that is, fifteen per cent, in a week, is bad news to you.” 

“ So I see by the papers,” said Nevil. “ That is better by 
ten per cent, than you expected.” 

“ It is that difference on two thousand shares.” 

“We will realize, Mr. Martin, at once to give us thirty 
thousand dollars as an item for present operations.” 

“ Had we not better hold on for a day or two ?” asked the 
broker. 

“ Not an hour, not an hour. The stock is solid and will 
rise ; I know what sent it down.” 

“ What was it ?” eagerly asked the broker. 

But Nevil, without replying to the question, said: “Let 
us turn to business.” 

Mr. Martin thereupon took up his memorandum. “ First 
on the list the Long Yalley Railroad wants a loan of fifty 
thousand, to take up some small floating debts.” 

“ To make good, rather, the amount requisite for a full 
share dividend,’’ said Nevil. 

Martin paused for a moment before he remarked : “ Then 


150 


THE METROPOLITES. 


we had better not touch it; the stock will tumble on our 
hands.” 

“ By all means take it,” said I^evil. “ Sell short one thou- 
sand shares to-day. Then sell out all your stock on hand 
to-morrow ; the day after it will be known the dividend was 
paid with money loaned for that purpose.” 

“ According to that scheme we can make about fifteen 
thousand in less than a week,” said the broker. 

“ What next?” Nevil inquired. 

“ Shall we loan on the Pewter Navigation stock?” asked 
Martin, referring to his memorandum. 

“ That company is failing, and will end in fraud.” 

“ Let us not, then, for gracious’ sake,” said the broker, “ be 
mixed up in it,” recoiling in horror from the thought of his 
name being linked with a swindle. 

“Make yourself easy, Mr. Martin. If we loan money on 
an over-issue of stock, are we not the victims instead of the 
partners in the conspiracy ?” 

“To be sure we are, and that is much worse, much 
worse,” he exclaimed, with emphatic Wall street indigna- 
tion. 

“ Restrain your imaginary wrath and listen to me,” said 
Nevil, calmly. “ Loan on the stock with twenty-five per cent, 
margin, and sell as fist as you get it. You may also sell 
short a thousand shares.” 

“ How much capital will this take ; let me see,” said the 
broker, making a verbal calculation on his fingers, and then 
adding : “ About thirty thousand dollars.” 

“Not a dollar,” Nevil replied, slowly. 

The broker stared at him in astonishment. 

“Listen,” said Nevil, “while I explain the operation. 
When they deposit the stock, tell them to call in an hour or 


THE METROPOLITES. 


151 


two ; you sell it at once, and give them seventy-five and you 
keep twenty-five of the proceeds.” 

“ But they may want to redeem their stock.” 

“ In that event you can purchase every day henceforth the 
shares in the market at a less figure than you previously sold. 
Remember they are falling rapidly, and the company must 
go down.” 

The most benign smile suffused the benevolent countenance 
of the broker as a perception of the results dawned upon his 
mercantile mind. 

“ I wish to know, Mr. Martin, if you fully understand the 
details of this operation ?” 

“ Understand the working of it ?” said Martin, figuring in 
his mind the certificates handed to him, his rushing frantically 
to the Stock Board, then selling, then a bank check, then a 
deposit of the same,, after being certified, then at his office, 
and then his own check on the loan. “But why do they 
not sell the stock for themselves instead of borrowing on 
it ?” 

“ A very natural question,” answered Nevil ; “ but every 
hypothecation in the street is subject to the same inquiry. 
They may win, but we must win.” 

“ Do you know their game ?” asked the broker. 

Nevil only raised his eyebrows as he inquired what came 
next. 

Mr. Martin was the gentleman’s confidential broker, to 
whom he paid a fixed percentage on the profits of his opera- 
tions. His great merit to the confidence of Mr. Nevil was 
his sterling honesty, secresy, and dread of stock operations, 
which prevented him from ever gambling at the Exchange. 
He had a large family, and was at one time almost reduced 
to want in consequence of some forgeries successfully prac- 


152 


THE ^[ETROPOLITES. 


tised upon him. Nevil knew him, and on learning his mis- 
fortune gave him a helping hand, when all his other acquaint- 
ances were disposed to drive him out of the street as 
“ broke.” 

Mr. ^N’evil did not claim much philanthropic commendation 
for his timely aid to Martin. Like Diogenes, he wanted to 
find an honest man for his purposes, and found him in Wall 
street. As Mr. Martin bundled up his papers preparatory to 
leaving, Nevil remarked : “ Now, remember, I expect to see 
you the object of extensive commiseration some of these 
days, the victim of misplaced confidence in the Pewter 
Navigation.” In truth, only a few weeks thereafter, one of 
the leading morning journals had the following paragraph 
in its money article : 

“The Pewter has gone to pot, as we predicted. The 
metal was found more attractive than gold, and we are afraid 
some of our friends have a pile of it on hand. The stock 
within a month has fallen from par to a penny, and the bro- 
kers must sufier severely who advanced on its worthless cer- 
tificates. A good many moneyed men were only astonished, 
but the worthy Martin may be said to be ‘ putrefied.’ We 
learn that those who loaned on a chattel mortgage on the 
steamers wiU recover nothing, as Judge Delay has decided 
on full argument that the first mortgage on the landed pro- 
perty covers the vessels, they being part of the freehold. It 
appears the steamers were attached to the dock by a very 
strong hawser, which made them fixtures or part of the 
realty — part of the working machinery of the company. So 
it is all in my eye and Biddy Martin.” 

But to return to the natural current of events. When the 
w^orthy broker quitted Mr. Nevil, with some half formed 
anticipations of the way he might figure in the papers, he 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


158 


met an acquaintance on the avenue whose steps were leading, 
like his o\^ti, down town. Mr. Tantis had seen Martin leav- 
ing Mr. Nevil’s stately mansion, and therefore longed to have 
a conversation with him. Mr. Tantis was a street broker, 
with the soul moreover of a sycophant and flunkey. To be 
seen in company with a gentleman who had been with the 
great Charles N^evil was flattering to his mighty genius. It 
was something to think over and talk about for a week. Mr. 
Tantis had been once in the navy, which he had quit, accord- 
ing to his unwritten autobiography, when he was a midship- 
man, because the department objected to his quotation marks 
in oflicial correspondence. He said the rule in the service 
was that no officer was allowed to mark more than one line 
in three as a quotation, nor more than two single words in a 
line. This he could not put up with, and resigned, to the 
great detriment of our future naval glory. Mr. Tantis had 
next essayed to spread happiness and opiiun over the Celes- 
tial Empire, and after many vicissitudes of fortune returned 
to his native city to cultivate and diffiase that fine code of 
morals soon acquired among the children of Confucius. Mr. 
Tantis could not be said to be learned, nor of a high order 
of intellect. He could talk, and scheme, and enter into spe- 
culations at a moment’s notice; and although he was now 
past the meridian of life, he was as active as a boy, being 
rather slim and juvenile in appearance, dressing neatly in 
the height of the fashion. 

“ I say, Martin, you ought to make a good thing out of 
Charles Nevil, as he knows a thing or two,” was the opening 
salutation of Tantis, taking his ai*m. 

“Yes,” said the broker; “Mr. I^evil has a clear concep- 
tion of business afiairs.” 

“ None more so ; he is at the head of the street, and 


154 


THE METROPOLITES. 


lucky. It is not in mortals to command the market, but he 
sometimes hits it hard.” 

“ I think Mr. Nevil is not much inclined to invest at pre- 
sent,” said the cautious Martin. 

“ Why don’t he go a flyer on the Pewter, and soar on 
eagle pinion in the tide that bears on to big dividends, and 
makes ambition virtue ?” 

“ You seem, Mr. Tantis, to have a good opinion of the 
Navigation stock.” 

“Nothing shorter. I would take it like a friend to my 
soul, and sip the goblet of its rich temptation. I am now 
particularly strong upon it. And on a long line of shares, a 
full multiplication table of figures, and on its empyrean 
heights I will clutch the prize, success.” 

“ Operating for a rise ?” said Martin. 

“ It must go up, if there be honesty in man,” Tantis re- 
plied, with great confidence. To which his fiiend did not dis- 
sent. 

“ I have staked my all,” continued Tantis, “ my all upon 
the Pewter, and will stand the hazard of a whole board of 
directors.” / 

“You gentlemen who are in the secret must know,” said 
the complimentary Martin, at the same moment releasing his 
arm and turning up Waverley Place, as Tantis walked on to 
the Washington Parade Ground. 

Something in the words and manner of Martin grated on 
the stock nerves of the classic street broker, and he seated 
himself on a bench under the trees of the Parade to think 
over the language. The thick falling leaves imparted a me- 
lancholy feeling, and all his courage for great daring in stock 
speculations oozed out. 

“ Something must be wrong about the Pewter,” said he, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


155 


musing. “ Martin did not say it, nor mean to say it ; but I 
felt it sticking out. He generally laughs when I talk the 
grandiloquent, but it was no go this morning.” 

Mr. Tantis had bought the stock on time, and could only gain 
in the event of a rise in the price of shares. If the stock fell, 
he would lose the five per cent, he had put up on the hundred 
shares, that is to say, he would sacrifice five himdred dollars, 
the sum total of his available capital. The thick perspiration 
stood on his forehead, and as he wiped it away with his 
scented handkerchief, he repeated to himself: “Nevil not 
investing at present ; that looks bearish ; a clear conception 
of business affairs, to be sure. And then Martin threw a 
chill on the Pewter ; that looks bearish again.” JSTow Tantis 
had the wisdom which is called cunning, and from the limited 
range of mental vision such people possess, he often made 
sad mistakes. He could not rely on his own judgment, ge- 
nerally led by some one ; and on the present occasion his 
faith was unbounded in the directory of the Pewter. But 
then the shadow of an opinion from Nevil was to him as cer- 
tain as the fate presaged of old by an oracle of Delphos. 

He hastened to Wall street, and realized at once on his con- 
tract for the hundred shares, which left him besides his 
investment a hundred dollars profit. During the day he 
found out that Martin was dealing in the stock, and that .at 
once decided him. He immediately put out a contract to 
deliver a hundi ed shares in thirty days at par, the then sell- 
ing price, and deposited his six hundred dollars as security. 
A few days thereafter the stocks had fallen fi\ e per cent., and 
his broker allowed him to duplicate his contract without any 
further deposit. Before the week closed, the indefatigable 
Tantis had induced others to join him, and was interested in 
many more contracts, all based upon a depreciation in the 


156 


THE METROPOLITES. 


price of tlie stock. He was now in a fair way of making 
some thousands, and, with the golden prospect before him, 
permitted half the time to expire, w’hen he was appalled by 
the uiformation that Mr. Martin was loaning money and 
taking this stock as security. Being assured by the broker 
himself that it was true, he immediately “ realized,” as it is 
called, in hot haste, and found himself in the possession of 
twenty thousand dollars. 

When the final explosion of the company happened ; when 
many men were ruined in fortune by the event ; when some 
had lost character by the transaction, while others were in 
the full tide of rejoicing over their profits, and lauding their 
own sagacity, Mr. Tantis was standing about the hour of 
noon, leaning with his back against the counter in Delmo- 
nico’s spacious bar-room. He had a choice circle of admir- 
ing friends aroimd him, who were doing him the honor of 
joining in sherry-cobblers all round. Mr. Tantis was imbib- 
ing his beverage through a long straw, and as he inserted the 
agricultural tube into the little icebergs in his glass, with all 
the precision with which a polar navigator would display with 
his setting-pole in the pack of the Arctic ocean, Ije thus dis- 
burdened his mind, having first pushed his hat back free from 
his beautiful narrow brows, as is the custom with the Orators 
of that forum when about to hold forth : “ I had long made 
up my mind, gentlemen, that the bottom must fall out of that 
concern. The directors were too sanguine, and v/ere run- 
ning the thing .into the ground. They were putting bn the 
string when they ought to have held hard on the ribbons. I 
told them so over and over again ; but it was no use. When 
the bears want to destroy, they let their chain loose. I told 
them to hold up hard ; but instead of that, they advised me 
to buy. I thought they were fluent, but preferred being 


THE METROPOLITES. 


157 


affluent myself, and therefore sold. I pity poor Martin, but 
he would not listen to reason. Coming down town one 
morning, I pointed out to him that the Pewter must burst, 
and cautioned him not to touch the stock with a fifty-two- 
forty pole. He said I was generally right, and all that sort 
of thing ; for Martin is an honest, straightforward, candid 
man. But I was afraid he was then too deep into it, or he 
would have backed out after what I told him. He turned 
away from me rather abruptly, and I then knew he was a 
goner.” 

“ But why, Tantis, did you close ?” said one of the admir- 
^ ing sons of St. Crispin-refresher ; “ why did you realize when 
the stock was up to fifty per cent. ?” 

This question was rather difficult to answer, and might 
lead to the supposition that Tantis quitted the game at the 
very time when the immense profits were the most certain to 
follow by holding on. 

“ Why did I realize !” said he, slowly shaking the ice round 
in his glass, and then taking a long-suck through the straw 
to gain time. “ The fact is,” said he at length, settuig down 
the goblet on the counter, “ I was afraid the brokers would 
not respond if I came it much stronger.” 

“ But then was your time to put out a new line,” said 
another, depositing his empty glass and taking his leave, 
with the impression that Mr. Tantis was only a lucky fool. 


158 


THE METROPOLITES. 


CHAPTER Xiy. 

The autumnal sessions of the courts had now commenced, 
at which Nathan Trenk was admitted to practice. It was 
not long before he became sensible that although unhappy as 
to his parentage, he was still the favorite of fortune in other 
matters. Perplexing as it always is to a young lawyer to 
know how to obtain business, or to conduct it properly when 
obtained, Nathan was almost free from these inquiries and 
doubts that hang like dark clouds over these questions. 
Baron Altberg, a German gentleman, had been in this coun- ^ 
try for several years as agent and part owner in a number 
of land or colonizing schemes, in which some enterprising 
Americans had induced his countrymen to .embark large 
sums. The Baron had found himself involved in litigation 
and in an extensive correspondence, which were unsatisfactory 
and seemed to be interminable. The incidental assistance 
Nathan rendered him in conducting his home correspondence, 
made a favorable impression upon the generous-hearted 
German. He conversed so much and so often with Nathan 
on his troubles and difficulties, that when admitted to the 
bar he had learned and understood all of the Baron’s embar- 
rassments. Altberg also complained bitterly of the lawyers 
not giving more time and attention to his affairs. He em- 
ployed Nathan at once to aid him in his business ; and it- was 
not many months before Trenk reduced the whole nego- 
ciation to a few simple elements, which greatly relieved 
the Baron’s labors, and still more his mind from annoying 
anxiety. Nathan assiduously applied his leisure time to 
the mastering of the land-laws and local systems of juris- 
prudence of the States in which the property was situated, 


THE METROPOLITES. 159 

and thereby was enabled to counsel the Baron on all 
points. 

By means of this business he was brought into active con- 
tact with the whole circle of the Baron’s acquaintance, 
which, in a short time, became very profitable. Altberg 
soon perceived the necessity for a clerk to Nathan, as he was 
assuming the burden from which the Baron was relieved. 
Soon after, another clerk was required, and additional busi- 
ness coming in, even a third had to be employed. II is office 
now began to throng with clients or persons resorting there 
for information. He was eagerly sought after by otlier law- 
yers with important cases to prepare, in which foreign wit- 
nesses or documents had to be examined in foreiorn Ian- 
guages. He blushed, however, to think of the little, shabby 
rooms in whicJi he was immured in office hours, and hoped to 
find more spacious quarters. About this time, too, a rage for 
reform in the si^e and structure of law apartments set in, 
and the desire for more comfort and elegance spread over 
the legal profession. 

The Baron was about returning to Europe, leaving Nathan 
in charge of his interests. This would furnish him with 
additional business, requiring additional office-space ; and he 
now imagined himself justified in renting a most beautiful 
and elegant suite of four rooms, constructed especially for 
offices, in one of those lofty structures which the banks and 
other corporations were then completing. This was a daring- 
movement, as the rent was enormous, but it was successful. 
Additional business still flowed in, and in his quiet, methodi- 
cal, energetic habit, he readily disposed of it all. 

From ten o’clock in the morning till near sundown, Nathan 
was to be seen in his luxurious inner-room intent on the 
affairs with which he was intrusted, unless he was absent at 


160 


, THE METROPOLITES. 


the courts. In the evening he found time to indulge in relax- 
ation or in his favorite amusements in the intervals not set 
apart for his studies, which he still pursued amidst his profes- 
sional occupation or pleasure. But it was in the early hours 
of morning he profited most by books or reflection ; and as 
the incessant round of parties, with the monotony of the 
same faces and scenes, began to lose their attractions, he 
would often find himself at night remaining at home to 
spend some happy hours with the interesting little boy and 
the little cripple of Mrs. Russell. The poor afflicted girl 
watched the clouds through the day, and if the weather por- 
tended a storm, she clapped her emaciated hands in ecstasy, 
hoping that Mr. Trenk would spend the rainy evening with 
her and her little brother. 

But Nathan’s expenses seemed to increase with the 
increase of his income. It was apparent the good Miss 
Howard no longer superintended his finances. A pair of 
beautiful bay horses and a carriage were soon added to his 
establishment, and again he was tempted to purchase a fine 
saddle-horse. Here the quadrupedal mania upon his pocket 
abated for the present; but as it is both a virulent and 
expensive disease, it is seldom overcome until it has run its 
course. It is possible he would have still further increased 
his stud, had he not recoiled from the intimate contact and 
familiarity with vulgar people which it tended to encourage. 
The jockeys and stable-boys began to accost him on terms of 
equality, and to give him such gratuitous scientific lectures on 
the points of animals, that he turned with horror from such 
company and contamination. He soon learned that he knew 
nothing about horses, and became sensible that, to acquire 
any knowledge, he would have to submit to be swindled 
largely by coarse, illiterate knaves. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


161 


The climate of Kew York is, for the most part, unfavor- 
able to equestrian exercise. The heat and summer sun, the 
cold of winter, with its ice and snows, all discourage the hope 
of much pleasure in the saddle. Without doubt the most 
invigorating and fascinating of rural amusements, it is one 
not much cultivated in our cities. Trotting horses in harness 
are substituted, that cockney imitation only preferable to an 
avenue railroad horse-car because it is more expensive and 
exclusive. But lio one will pretend to call exercise on wheels an 
equestrian amusement, where the display is in the fabrics of 
leather, iron, wood, varnish, and gilding, and the excitement, 
the clioice quality of cigars in starting, or the “ gin-sling” 
and “brandy-smash” with which every milestone is to be 
honored. But a common dust falls heavily and equally on 
the gentleman,- the blackleg, and the billiard-marker in Har- 
lem Lane, and in the road to the race-course on Long Island, 
when on a glorious drive ; and if they can occasionally catch 
a glimpse of the curbstone on either side, they may sigh for 
the region of fresh air beyond their reach or expectations. 
The pleasure of agreeable society or conversation they never 
aspire to, for money cannot buy them, nor would they be 
appreciated as equal to patent paint and silver-plating. 

Perhaps when the metropolis is studded with spacious 
parks, the equestrian will find protection from the burning 
sun under their leafy trees, and relief from the heated atmo- 
sphere in the fast walking pace of his animal, a gait most 
suitable to both horse and rider, and the only one for comfort 
in our summer months. Then horses will be admired once 
more for their beauty and action, and their proper manage- 
ment will once more form a part of liberal education and 
graceful accomplishment for both ladies and gentlemen. 

It was with some such reflections as these that Nathan 


162 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


became imbued by the gentlemen at Sharon, when some of 
them spoke of exercise on horseback as an element of exist- 
ence like air, or heat, or water, and each ascribed some 
peculiar excellence to it. But all of them, except those resi- 
dent in cities, extolled it, as not only a duty, but as a virtue, 
imparting both pleasure and vigor to the intellect. Nathan, 
however, soon became tired of his horse, as thousands have 
before and will again, who rashly imagine a seat in the sad- 
dle is a natural instinct which need not be learned when 
young, when the excitement compensates for the pain in 
learning ; or later in life when a determination to persevere 
supplies the want of novelty until the proper habit and action 
are acquired. Tie did not even understand that/ the horses 
were not all alike in the movements, although they might 
differ in size, or color, or price ; nor that Tattersall’s could not 
turn out nags to order like Lawrence or Brewster can pro- 
duce a carriage. But it is enough to know he did not admire 
his saddle-horse any more than a juvenile performer revels in 
delight on his first cigar as he inhales the smoke from its 
burning leaf. Twenty years hence, all gentlemen and ladies 
in the metropolis will know much more of the saddle than is 
now acquired by most of them. 

But when he was three years at the bar he was a proficient 
in both the practice and principles of law. His industry in 
attention to business, and his studies and reflections at home, 
made him one of the best legal scholars of the city. His 
aspirations as an orator had not yet been gratified, as the 
time had not arrived, and he was content to wait. He was 
steadily working his way to distinction, as he was rising in 
the estimation of the profession and of those whose opinions 
were entitled to the greatest respect. The impression still 
prevailed that he was wealthy and also dissipated. The air 


THE METROPOLITES. 


163 


of refined, of polished luxury, which pervaded his actions and 
style of living, caused some to suppose his industry was 
prompted by a keen, deep intellect to amass large sums with 
which to gratify dissolute habits or expensive tastes ; and at 
times when he was puring over masterly, abstruse exposi- 
tions of constitutional law, some of his admirers imagined 
him absorbed in the calculations of chances at the faro-table, 
watching heavy stakes. 

The labor devoted to the grasping of principles and to the 
unravelling of intricate details of business being imknown to 
the world, made the results appear as flashes of genius, as 
inspirations of the moment that the exigency of the occasion 
suddenly called forth. Indeed, his extravagance only became 
perceptible to all, as he was now living up to his constantly 
increasing income. He had lost his caution and sense of 
economy while his mind was occupied with abstruse ques- 
tions in law and with ambitious schemes. But no corroding 
care burdened his mind. He was still the same placid, light, 
airy, agreeable gentleman, especially when among ladies. 
True, he was thoughtful when consulted by gentlemen about 
business, but his brow relaxed whenever the matter in hand 
was solved. 

He was seen as much in society as ever, and it was percep- 
tible his circle was much enlarged, and, withal, more select. 
He was rapidly becoming a great favoiite with those who 
were themselves favorites in exclusive places. He was esta- 
blishing a position as one whose information was always, not 
only correct, but extensive, whose opinion was conclusive, and 
whose taste and accomplishments, in some respects, were 
unrivalled ; and above all, whose handsome form and elegant 
manners, embellished with the most exquisite art in dress, 
would of themselves have furnished a world of attractions. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


lOtt 

If society knew that he was dissipated, leading a dissolute 
life, he did not obtrude any evidence of it upon others, and 
as they had no visible knowledge on the subject, they were 
not bound to observe nor to interfere with that which was 
none of their affair. It was a pity which could not be 
helped, and as gentlemen were jealous of him, it was natural 
they should exaggerate. On the whole, so long as he was 
received everywhere, and petted and courted by everybody, 
they were not going to make themselves ridiculous. But 
when some of the sagest even of widows looked in his inno- 
cent, manly, and expressive face, as he sang a touching, 
plaintive song, or when engaged in sprightly conversation, 
they wondered to themselves with laughing eyes how one 
so wicked could thus assume the garb and mien of such art- 
less sincerity and simplicity. 

The pious exhortation of Burk, with uplifted hands and 
eyes, as he implored “brother Nicolas,” in his burlesque 
moods, to shun temptation and Trenk, could not influence 
Sabina against Nathan. “ This exemplary gentleman,” Burk 
said, “ whose walk was to the church door, and whose con- 
versation suited consumptive maidens, sometimes was led to 
the lair of that howling lion in the wilderness, that ensnarer 
of mankind and siren among sirens, the wicked but par- 
ticularly agreeable Trenk.” Mr. Sabina was not only a visi-' 
tor of Nathan’s, but also one of his greatest admirers, 
despite the horrible stories told. lie would visit him at his 
rooms at Mi s. Russell’s, and he would listen enraptured to 
Nathan’s music. Something was in the tone of his voice 
that filled Sabina’s soul with delight as well as astonishment. 
Nor would it be easy to explain this admiration without a 
slight account of Sabina’s own idosyncrasy. 

It is already known Sabina was an excellent mimic and 


THE METROPOLITES. 


165 


ventriloquist, admirable in pantomime. But it was known 
to a few only that his sense of hearing was intensely vivid 
or acute, almost to become painful, although it was the sense 
above all others through which his most delightful sensations 
were experienced. In recompense to Nathan for his enter- 
tainment, he would sometimes exhibit those powers of his 
voice in the production of sounds almost superhuman. 
Whatever sound struck upon his ear, come from whatever 
quarter, he would reproduce its counterpart either from his 
voice or from artificial combinations. He seemed to possess 
a gamut expressive of every mental or physical emotion in 
all animated nature. He would imitate the cry of an infant 
in pain, and prolong the same until you recognised the young 
of various animals uttering their distress in the same note 
indefinitely, until the wails of baby, beast, and bird were 
known by that acoustic mark blended into the original ele- 
mental sound. Jhe wild outburst of a mother weeping the 
loss of her child was echoed back by the ferocious beast in 
his savage lair, or in the cooing of the gentle feathered war- 
bler on the tree, each in harmony, and all uttering the one 
anthem of despair in unison to the Almighty for help and 
hope. Thus again the strains that Adam may have addressed 
to our common mother in Paradise in tones of affection and 
love, were imitated by the various quadrupeds in mountain 
and valley, and by the other creatures floating in the sea or 
upper air. 

These were sounds not modified in mankind by intellectual 
culture, being the natural outpourings of the heart. Next 
he produced those which the impress of humanity had varied, 
of the baser passions of hate, rage, and revenge. The yell 
of the human voice was like, and yet unlike, the scream of the 
beast or bird of prey, and the agonized outcry of man only 


166 


THE HETHOPOLITES. 


faintly resembled the muffled bellow of the lion or wild 
bull. 

Again he portrayed those peculiar sounds of emotion in 
the human race where animals, devoid of intellect, are mute. 
He imitated or rather reproduced — for the exhibition was of 
a higher order than imitation, being life-like itself — that 
sound and sensation representing happiness — a state of exist- 
ence expressed by mankind only in laughter. He gave the 
laugh of the old, of middle-aged, of the young of both sexes ; 
the laugh of the semi-civilized and of the savage ; each dimi- 
nishing in gushing, joyous melody, until terminating in the 
discordant chatter of the grinning monkey or the rasping 
gibber of the Zambo ape of the Equator. 

Again he would amuse Nathan' with the primitive note of 
each animal, its phonetic name given at the dawn of creation 
to distinguish it from all others, by which recognised in some 
human language, savage or ci\dlized, ancient or modern. He 
instanced the tetix., the lingual index among the Greeks of the 
grasshopper or locust, who adorned "heir hair with its golden 
counterfeit ; the tmn, the Persian for peacock ; our own 
whip-poor-will, whose plaintive note furnishes its own name ; 
the Aztec guahalote^ the turkey, the great and only domestic 
fowl of ancient Mexican semi-civilization ; and the charra^ 
the tree-locust, cicada, of the natives of the South Sea. 

In exhibiting this phonetic language the sound sometimes 
proceeded from the nose, sometimes from the throat, some- 
times deeper down on the breast, perhaps lower still ; at 
other times a species of ventriloquism left it uncertain from 
whence coming, which Sabina, however, said was not ven- 
trUoquial, but a natural sound in an animal — a sound the 
human organs could reproduce by cultivation ; all being 
names whereby Adam called the beasts of the field and fowls 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


167 


of the ;dr around him in the garden of Eden, and which man 
only could pronounce. 

When Sabina gave the primitive note of the grasshopper, or 
peacock, or whip-poor-will, or turkey, or tree-locust, Nathan 
recognised the imitation as perfect in sound, and not merely 
a faint resemblance which a few experiments might equal. 
Sabina went even into the misnomers given to animals by 
nations who, observing them at certain seasons only, as game 
for instance, on the hunting-grounds, mistook some cry or 
caU as the primitive note, when it was one expressive of an 
emotion that had a sound radical with the cry of other ani- 
mals, and not exclusively its own. 

It was impossible for Nathan to perceive whether Sabina 
was pursuing this singular investigation of the original uni- 
versal language for the purposes of some new doctrine in 
religion, or for some new science. It was only by accident 
Sabina let faU trivial expressions that encouraged the opinion 
he was interested at all in the study beyond the amusement 
of the passing moment,' and was thus dissipating the hours 
of his apparently quiet and harmless existence. 


CHAPTER XV. 

It was seldom Nathan admitted any visitor to his rooms. 
He knew how little time would be at his own disposal if his 
studies were interrupted at all hours by such invasions. But 
becoming interested in the phonetic exhibitions of Sabina, 
he extended invitations to him on particular occasions to call, 
when they could alone discourse about matters to which 


168 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


they were both attracted. Witl^; very few exceptions, how- 
ever, Trent was always alone at home with the bright little 
boy and interesting cripple. These were his only company ; 
for the mother was content to look on their amusement in 
silence, fully gratified in witnessing the happiness of her 
darling children. The young ones seemed to mark Nathan’s 
departure in the morning and return in the evening as the 
most important events of the day. 

When he was absent, they had much to tell their mother 
about him, and to talk over what they would do to please 
him when he came. Bob, the black-eyed and rosy-cheeked 
boy, was a healthy, manly little fellow. He knew he dare 
not touch any article in Mr. Trenk’s rooms ; but this inter- 
dict did not forbid his visiting the third story sometimes, and 
gazing in wonder and gratified astonishment at the splendor 
of all objects around. He would stand in mute amazement 
looking at the paintings, and busts, and bronze statuettes 
adorning the rooms in profusion. He would slowly walk 
round the tables on which the various and numerous musical 
instruments were placed, and with Herculean strength bring 
a chair across the fl.oor to stand upon and look down on 
sheets of printed music to see the pictures with which each 
was embellished. His favorite was the figure of a sylphid, 
bounding through the air in flimsy, flowing drapery, with one 
toe resting on the highest note in a line of music, indicative, 
no doubt, of the greatest flight in art; but which Bob thought 
must be very painful to her foot thus to be kept standing on 
something sharp as a pin. He told his mother and sister all 
about it frequently, and was much comforted when they 
agreed with him that it was a pity for the pretty lady with 
the wreath of roses in her hand. 

Bob would occasionally insert his hand cautiously into a 


THE METROPOLITES. 


169 


boxing-glove, and imagine himself coming up behind Mr. 
Trenk to give him a blow that would frighten him very 
much. Then again lie would essay to test his vigorous 
athletic powers in lifting a dumb-bell from the floor, and with 
much straining it would be elevated three inches, to fall with 
some noise, most probably on his toes, vfhich accident, being 
unforeseen, would generally close the performance for that 
day. But he would again steal up-stairs to place some new 
toy of recent purchase in the most conspicuous place on the 
writing-table for Mr. Trenk’s admiration and delight when 
he returned home; and if he received a story-book with 
yellow cover and blazing pictures, in the full efiiilgence of 
blue, green, and crimson paint, he would place the gem of 
decorated literature on the same table, with a paper weight 
upon it to keep it open at the most attractive page. Then, 
if he heard a noise, he would run to the landing and look 
down through the baluster to see if any one were coming ; and 
perhaps hasten down step by step, with left foot always fore- 
most, holding on to guard against a fall, and stopping in 
silence at regular intervals to rest his little legs and to take 
a fresh reconnoissance over the spiral staircase. One after- 
noon he thus entered the rooms, and as his little shoes were, 
slightly soiled from walking, he took them off* preparatory to 
pushing the chair for another examination of the beautiful 
lady with the roses. But, for some pix'liminary purpose, he 
hadclimbed'to a large, luxurious, leather-lined arm-chair, and 
almost instantly had fallen asleep in one of its ample corners. 
Nathan entered soon after, and found him sleeping cosily, 
with the shoes placed side by side on his table. 

The scene was one of happy innocence and repose ; the 
little fellow in peaceful slumber, sinking to rest without care, 
or trouble, or pain, and his shoes indicating his obedience to 

8 


170 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


instruction to keep them off the chairs, and yet breaking the 
spirit of the rule in putting them in guileless confidence 
where they would be a greater profanation. Nathan threw 
himself into his accustomed seat to muse on the quiet scene, 
and almost uttered an apostrophe to the little shoes before 
him. How many tender, and sometimes mournful, emotions 
do the sight of little shoes awaken ; what endearing recol- 
lections do they often revive ; what pleasant scenes are asso- 
ciated with them ! They are mementoes of life, of action, 
of innocence, of happy childhood ; and how many of tlicm 
are tenderly hid away in secret receptacles, with other pre- 
cious articles, when the little feet for which they were made 
are mouldering in the parent earth. With what pleasure do 
beaming eyes behold them set side by side at night, when the 
little weary limbs are resting in tranquil slumbers which 
refresh for to-morrow’s many more unquiet hours ; what 
music in them when heard in sweet accompaniment to prat- 
tling tongues, retuniing home from an excursion, when a 
mother’s anxious heart forebodes some calamity from the 
long delay ! 

Nathan tenderly took the sleeping child in his arms, and 
soothingly kissed him a\yake, in gentle tones, such as should 
always be addressed to Ibifancy asleep. The boy slowly 
opened his large eyes to throw his arms almost convulsively 
around the neck of Nathan. He sat upon Trenk’s knee, and 
as he rubbed his long eyelashes he seemed but half conscious 
of his locality. His little lips gave utterance to words Na- 
than could not comprehend. He spoke of trees and ships ; 
the bird with music ; a drum and pretty lady ; of flowers and 
waving flags ; of tears, and toys, and little girls ; in joyous 
remembrance of his passing dream, in which he was once 
more revelling, and still in wonder where it was all gone ; 


THE METROPOLITES. 


171 


for as yet his baby mind knew not the stuff that dreams were 
made of ; but held it all as real, vivid, and substantial as the 
scene before him. Again he clasped Nathan to his bosom, 
and often kissing him, at last conscious of where he was, 
and less regretting the vanished vision in knowing that once 
more Trenk was with him. Wliile Nathan was putting on 
his little shoes, the child remembered his coming into the 
room ; but there his recollection ended, as he said, “ Me is a 
good boy ; not put muddy shoes on the carpet and chairs.” 

“ Yes, Bob, you are a good boy ; but who brought you up 
stairs ?” 

“ Mamma brought me, and the ships with pony horse, to 
give me drum, and flowers, and pretty ladies.” 

“ Upon my word, my boy, that is a new kind of naviga- 
tion, with a select cargo.” 

“ But where is the flag, and trees, and music ?” asked the 
little fellow, still harping on his dream. 

Nathan took him on his back and gave him a tune on the 
Kent bugle, which Bob enjoyed greatly as music on horse- 
back, in fancy placing himself at the head of one of those 
immortal, invincible cavalry regiments of the city, the espe- 
cial admiration of our boys, and the envy and terror of the 
Imperial and Coldstream Guards of Europe. 

The afllicted cripple evinced her gratitude and affection 
for Nathan in her own peculiar way, and to her own satis- 
faction. She, too, would visit his rooms, with the assistance 
of the nurse, to sit for hours on a cushioned chair contem- 
plating the beautiful objects with which the apartments were 
adorned. A simple rose or flower would be left in water to 
please his eye on his return, or an elaborately worked marker 
for his book ; and if she had received any present, her grati- 
fication was but half complete till he had expressed his 


172 


THE METROPOLITES. 


admiration. Od those happy evenings for the children when 
Nathan remained with them, he devised amnsements for their 
especial delight. He played on the piano, and cremona, and 
other instruments, or he sang lively little ballads suitable for 
their understanding and adapted to their taste. When com- 
pany was present, then the entertainment would vary, but 
always with some new chaiun for the excited children. 
Sabina sometimes lent his aid to interest them, although the 
little cripj)le had some instinctive dislike to him. But Bob 
would sit on his knee and watch the figures in the fantastic 
shadows on the wall, which Sabina made by various combi- 
nations. Different animals would be seen in outline, which 
would talk and imitate their counterparts of real life. Sing- 
ing-birds would be heard outside the windows, dogs would 
bark under the table, and lambs would bleat behind sofas. 
The illusion was always perfect, and they were correspond- 
ingly pleased. 

Emma Gray was often with the afliicted child Alice, for 
she was a Sunday-school scholar in Emma’s class, whom she 
visited, not only from duty, but from pleasure, and also as an 
intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Russell. Emma had always a 
large assortment of entertaining little religious books for her 
favorites, with which she kept Alice supplied, and these the 
innocent little cripple always placed on Nathan’s table, 
believing he would read them with delight. It was evident 
Emma enjoyed her visits, which she would prolong till late 
in the evening, romping with the little boy and amusing 
Alice, or in turn amused when Nathan or Sabina was there 
to join in the sport. 

But Trenk was Emma’s favorite. She always met him 
with a smile, and seemed entranced with his melody when 
she had prevailed on him to favor her with some choice plain- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


173 


tive airs. He, too, would teach her the new dancing-steps 
or quadrille figures, and Avhen he was her escort they had 
leisure moments for some agreeable conversation. Emma 
was fluent, Avith a well cultivated mind, and, as she Avas a 
little lady, not much in society, had read some, and thought 
and felt more, her sentiments Avere vivid and original, with a 
rich freshness and candor not met with in others, making 
her highly attractive to Mr. Trenk. In this manner they 
were thrown together much more than could have happened 
had Nathan only seen her in his round of dissipation. He 
was conscious she was unhappy ; that some secret grief 
brooded over her thoughts, throwing a cloud across her brow, 
where sunshine and happiness ought perpetually to dwell, if 
peace and contentment are ever bestowed on this earth to 
those who most richly deserve them. An orphan girl, with- 
out fortune, she had sought in the consolations of religion 
that balm for her sold and outpourings of her pure heart, 
Avhen a mother’s bosom on Avhich to repose had been denied 
to her. Sincere and single-minded in her piety, she had 
fomid in it, in the virtues which it inculcates, a germ of 
happiness, the solace of many dreary, mournful hours, and 
that courage and fortitude to bear her Aveary cross until per- 
mitted to join her parents in another Avorld. She had 
schooled herself against depression of spirits as sinful, and, in 
the desire to appear cheerful, she had often been surprised m 
society, when she had in reality Ibund a momentary pleasure 
and enjoyment. 

It can, therefore, be easily understood hoAv it was that her 
first interview Avith Nathan had been at once so attractive 
and how his music and plaintive little song had so deeply 
aftected her. On farther acquaintance, they had become the 
best of friends, mutually pleased, and equally desirous of 


174 


THE METROPOLITES. 


meeting frequently. Whenever Nathan met her at entertain- 
ments, which, to be sure, was not often, he was most assidu- 
ous in his attentions, and, indeed, receiving from him many 
of those agreeable impressions which dispelled the gloom 
from her mind. 

Whenever she was fortunate in meeting Mr. Burk with 
Nathan while visiting Mrs. Russell, Emma had an additional 
pleasure. This fat young gentleman always welcomed her 
presence, as it might be imagined he would have received a 
favorite younger sister. Kindness was in his language and 
in his deportment, indicative almost of affection, with such a 
genial warmth in his expression and sentiments that could 
not fail to impress her favorably. They must have been well 
known to each other from the pleasure with which they met ; 
and the watchful solicitude he always evinced for the respect 
to be bestowed upon her, plainly indicated his interest in her 
welfare. Although no one would suppose that she should 
ever make Mr. Burk a confidant in her troubles, yet it was 
perceptible he understood her much better than others ; lead- 
ing many to the belief that all the incidents of her innocent 
life were well known to him. Some said they were rela- 
tions ; and when it was alluded to in his presence, he neither 
admitted nor denied the fact, but either evaded it playfully, 
or carelessly acknowledged a family resemblance, “some- 
thing like that between Falstaff and his page.” 

Li such casual meetings of friends as these above de- 
scribed at Mrs. Russell’s, it can easily be imagined the plea- 
sure all experienced, even while intent on amusing the child- 
ren ; and they who witnessed Nathan’s deportment on these 
evenings could not for a moment suppose he was the desperate 
gamester, the dissolute character, for which the world gave 
him credit. No one could divine Sabina’s thoughts on the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


175 


subject, for he seemed too selfish and too much absorbed in 
his favorite acoustic amusements to form an opinion in 
such matters. He might know something about ministers, 
or Sunday-schools, or sermons, but about men of the world 
or business affairs everybody was certain he was either inno- 
cent or indifferent. Mr. Burk was too indolent to trouble 
himself about Nathan’s habits, content to follow the lead of 
other people. It was no matter at best to him if Trenk were 
saint or sinner. Emma Gray, probably, had never heard the 
reports at all, and therefore knew only her own feelings 
towards him. 

Mrs. Russell never supposed, when Nathan promised Bob 
a pony, that her darling boy was to be entered on the track 
leading to perdition, under the training of one who was an 
adept in that kind of knowledge. Nor did she object when, 
in pleasant weather, Nathan ordered round his carriage for the 
children to be out in the fresh air enjoying delightful drives, 
although he could not accompany them. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

There is a portion of the metropolis, often mentioned in 
newspapers and elsewhere, which is an unexplored region to 
that blessed part of the human family called the Upper Ten 
Thousand. It would be wholly unknown to them had it not 
been for the geographical ardor and enterprise of railroad 
directors, pushing their scientific inquiries into that desert, 
distant, dusty region, and opening it up as a transit route 
between the two oceans of life — ^between business down 


176 


THE METROPOLITES. 


town in the morning and the family bosom up town in the 
evening. 

This tract of country, delineated on the island charts as 
the Bowery, is supposed by all people in the rural districts 
to be some immense edifice, combining the architectural 
embellishments of Bunker Hill, the Rip-Baps, the Mormon 
Temple, and Barnum’s Museum. The best society was 
nearly as much mistaken until railroad companies enlight- 
ened it in their diffusion of useful knowledge. 

The Bowery is the widest avenue of the city : an avenue 
more than a mile in length, running nearly parallel to Broad- 
way, and not far distant to the east of that imposing street. 
The Bowery, however, is as well-paved and withall more 
spacious. At the upper end stands the immense brick and 
mortar structure, where several millions of dollars are annu- 
ally collected to be invested in religious books, that are 
spread free and broadcast over the world for the promotion 
of Christianity. At the opposite, the lower and distant 
extremity of the same thoroughfare, the children of Judea, 
in less ambitious buildings, have made as lavish expenditure 
in second-hand clothing, of which, according to their own 
account, they are equally generous. Thus, between the two 
religions, between synagogue and church, Stuyvesant Place 
and Chatham Square, between the 'New Testament and old 
pantaloons, the Bowery lies like a Mediterranean of lager- 
bier, with a polyglot population, the Gei-man language, how- 
ever, being in the ascendant, a sort of Lingua Franca of the 
locality. 

The near approach of the rival religious dispensations in 
this quarter, has, no doubt, exercised a marked effect upon 
the prejudices of both. For here the Israelite forgets to 
keep his Sabbath, and liis Christian neighbor, in returning 


THE METROPOLITES. 


177 


the compliment, is equally oblivious of his duties on the first 
day of the Aveek. Hence the laws made for the observance 
of Sunday are scorned as fanatical edicts, unworthy of this 
enlightened age of ci\il and religious liberty. But it is due 
to candor to add that the Bible-House and buildings on 
Chatham Square are scrupulously closed on that day — out of 
respect to the j)ublic — in order that the people may enjoy 
themselves. 

The denizens of the street, duly impressed with religious 
humility from the opposing creeds, have erected theii- humble 
houses without much pretension to height or ornament. 
Their style of buildings would be eminently suitable in the 
event of an earthquake, as the roofs are too near to the 
ground to fall outside of the curb-stones from the effects of a 
shock. But for all commercial purposes this order of archi- 
tecture cannot, in strict justice, be classed under either the 
beautiful or beneficial. A reformation in this matter, how- 
ever, is progressing. In the meanwhile, the low brick and 
frame structures are occupied as inferior-class stores and 
shops of all kinds, filled Avith corresponding wares, to be sold 
Avith more than Broadway profits. 

Innovation in accordance with this enlightened age has 
made, however, but slow progress as yet, either towards 
modern masonry or modern morals in the upper end of this 
street. Here the American element, along with Puritan 
habits, still predominates. But the swelling tide of immi- 
grants sends an intimidating note to leave before the foreign 
inundation is upon them. 

Here, on one stormy winter night when snow and sleet 
Avere falling, Avhen many of the shop A^indows Avere closed, 
Avhen their lights were extinguished at q^ite an early hour, 
Morton ^irk sat in an inner-room of a small, old, dingy 

8 * 


178 


THE METROPOLITES. 


house. This low two-story building was constructed of infe- 
rior brick, presenting a sombre appearance -on the outside, 
with its two narrow doors and one narrow window on the first 
floor, and two windows above. A small store or shop was 
in front, and the sitting-room adjoining, that Morton occu- 
pied, was fitted up with very plain but neat furniture. 
Beyond was another apartment of the same size, in the cor- 
ner of which the stairs led to the upper story, and beyond 
this again was a small kitchen. 

Mr. Burk was resting himself in silence and in an ample 
arm-chair before a good fire of anthracite coal, blazing cheer- 
fully in the grate. He was smoking, and, as usual, with a 
glass of brandy in close proximity to his elbow. Opposite 
to him was a thin, shi*ivelled-up old man, with scanty, white 
locks, and in a much worn suit of black, but in good preser- 
vation and clean. He was snapping his eyelashes as he 
looked alternately at Morton and at another person who 
was seated upright on an old sofa, most uncomfortably, in 
the furthermost corner of the room. This retiring gentle- 
man seemed to be awaiting’ Burk’s pleasure, expecting 
him to speak. He was a man in the prime of life, without 
any personal attractions, yet dressed with evident care, 
although not in the prevailing style or fashion. He was 
rather tall and slim, with thin features, sandy whiskers of a 
most formal cut, and complexion much whiter than indicative 
of good health. You might take him, at first sight, for a 
neighboring store-keeper attentive to business and well-to- 
do in the world. 

Burk was in no haste to open the conversation, while the 
feeble old man, with evidently a feeble intellect, awaited im- 
patiently for something to be said. At last Morton took a 
taste of brandy, and, without raising his head, asked : 


THE METROPOLITES. 


179 


“ Major Waywode, what is the news down town ?” 

“l^ot much of anything,” replied he of the distant sofa. 

“ Was it snowing as you came up ?” 

“Yes, with a slight sprinkle of rain.” Then, after a mo- 
ment’s pause, the Major added : “ I think there will be some 
sleighing in Broadway to-morrow.” 

Hereupon another long silence ensued, only broken by the 
noise of the storm outside, and the rattle of the various rail- 
road cars passing in front of the house. Burk smoked on 
without further observation, until even he appeared to be- 
come weary of the monotony. Then, raising his voice to a 
high pitch, he exclaimed, as if intending to be heard in the 
shop : 

“ I think, Mary, you had better shut up and come in. I 
am tired waiting for you.” 

Major Waywode at this volunteered in a timid voice to 
state that Mary would be in soon ; that she was fixing some 
goods in their proper place. After another pause of some 
moments a movement was heard in the shop, and the sound 
of a bar put up, indicating that the lady in question might 
be expected. At the next instant the partition door opened, 
and she made her appearance. 

The Major involuntarily rose to his feet, while Morton in 
haste snatched the pipe from his mouth as his eyes fell upon 
the beautiful girl before him. She was above medium 
height, with soft brown hair, large hazel eyes, and dazzling 
regular teeth. Her complexion and lips denoted high health 
in their roseate tints, while her mouth and otlier features of 
her face were such as a sculptor would wish for models. She 
had a very becoming dress of a thick winter pattern, well 
made, and fitting in perfection, but leaving enough of her 
neck and arms exposed to indicate the full development of 


180 


THE METROPOLITES. 


her 'svell formed figure. The smile with which she welcomed 
the gentlemen was in itself bewitching, and the clear, ring- 
ing, merry tones of voice in which she spoke would have 
dispelled gloom from any heart. Frankness, decision, and 
benevolence equally beamed from her clear countenance. 
l!^or could any one be mistaken in supposing she was a girl 
of rare good common sense. It was not what she said, but 
the manner in which she spoke, that made her irresistibly 
fascinating. 

“ Smoking again, Mr. Burk,” said she, as Morton resumed 
his pipe. 

“Yes, Mary ; it is one of the few comforts left me in my 
down-hill of life.” 

“ Poor fellow ! As you have so few, what are the others ?” 
said she, with a merry smile. 

“ ]My comforts are like the balls at the pawnbrokers, three 
in number: a glass of brandy, a pipe, and the little piece of 
dimity now before me.” 

“ Thank you,” said she, pouting, “ for the compliment, 
putting me on a level with a bottle of liquor and a paper of 
tobacco.” 

“ Well, then,” said Morton, “ ask your father there if he 
does not like smoking, and ask the Major if he does not as a 
true Virginian cultivate the weed. Mary, you must not 
undervalue the luxuries of life.” 

“If father wishes it, I have no objections,” said she, 
slightly coughing from an inhalation of smoke ; “ but it will 
choke me some of these days.” 

“ I never heard of any lady dying of it or else more pipes 
would be burning among some husbands of my acquaintance.” 

Mary, while laughing, coughed again and cleared her 
throat. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


181 


“ Take a little of this goblet,” said he ; ’tis not so sweet 
as woman’s lip, but much more comfortable in the long 
run.” 

With a wave of her hand, however, she s milin gly de- 
clined the suggestion, and drank some water. 

“ But why don’t you take a seat, Mary ? Oh, I see now,” 
looking down at her skirt in admiration. That is a most 
beautiful spread, anyhow ; new, and in the latest style.” 

“ Yes, and with gaiters . to match,” said she, putting out 
the toe of her little foot for his contemplation. 

“They are beautiful,” he exclaimed; “and in your new 
high heels you are a peg above us this evening. But why did 
you pile on the attractions in such a night as this ?” 

“ We were going to Mblo’s, if it had not been for the 
snow-storm.” 

“ Who is we ?” Morton asked. 

“ The Major and myself.” 

Here the gallant officer modestly remarked that the snow 
was a very unfortunate event indeed, 

“ Never mind,” said Burk, “ we will try and make up for 
the loss. The old Nubian at the corner will soon be here 
with a tureen of smoking stewed oysters and trimmings.” 

The old gentleman at this information snapped his eye- 
lashes more vigorously with evident satisfaction ; and Mary, 
perceiving the pleasure this announcement gave her father, 
hastened into the adjoining apartment to arrange the pre- 
liminaries with an old housekeeper whom she called down 
stairs to her assistance. 

The old man held both Burk and Major Waywode in high 
estimation as gentlemen of great wealth and distinction. 
When very young, and while a clerk in a country store, 
Mary’s father had been seized with a military ardor, and as 


182 


THE METROPOLITES. 


the country was then at war with England, he was commis- 
sioned a lieutenant in a volunteer regiment, that marched 
into Canada. History does not inform us of his exploits in 
arms, although several of the name are honored in the bul- 
letins, his name being Smith. When his regiment was dis- 
banded, he turned his sword into a yard-stick, and now, 
instead of mounting barbed steeds, he only sprang over the 
counter. He had married, but his wife died after many 
years of a happy life, leaving Mary as the only surviving 
child. Misfortunes came upon him thick and fast. He failed 
in business and removed to the city, where prosperity did 
not return. Mary was employed in a store in Broadway 
when quite young, and in time earned a little money. When 
she was eighteen, her father required so much nursing , that 
she could not leave him, and in order to make a support she 
commenced to sell a few articles at home on her own ac- 
count. She had been successful, and now was in possession 
of a stock of goods in all the variety ever found in a trim- 
ming store. By close attention to business and punctuality, 
she had been enabled each year to enlarge her establishment, 
and even had a credit among the merchants from whom she 
purchased. 

Maiy was well known in the neighborhood, and equally 
popular with her customers. Her rare beauty of course 
attracted the youths, but she had not given them encourage- 
ment to visit. They told one another of their efforts and of 
their failures with the Rose-Bud, as they called her, all 
declaring she was the most beautiful and at the same time 
the most hard-hearted girl along the street, who was sure to 
make any fellow ridiculous; for, with her good-humored 
candor, she could keep them at a distance without offendino*. 
Her first acquaintance with Burk was accidental. He had 


THE METROPOLITES. 


183 


met two of his associates at the corner of Broadway and 
Canal street, where, halting for a moment to exchange salu- 
tations, they were attracted to a young girl plainly dressed, 
who wished in vain to cross Broadway while the street was 
running knee-deep in melting ice and snow-water. As she 
turned her head in despair, they observed her striking counte- 
nance of brilliant color. “ I will go a pair of boots anyhow 
on that beauty,” said Burk, and at the next instant he had 
thrown his sturdy arm around her waist, to carry her through 
the flood to the other side. Before she could recover from 
her surprise, he landed her safely. At first she was provoked 
at what seemed to be a rudeness in a fashionably dressed 
young gentleman ; but he gracefully touched his hat and 
hoped she would pardon him, so that she could not in her 
heart resent it as an affi’ont. As he turned away he added : 
‘‘ But if you really think I was wrong, I can make all right 
by carrying you back again.” The merry twinkle of her 
eye confessed he was forgiven. When Mary returned home 
she related the adventure, declaring she did not know how 
she could ever have crossed Broadway had it not been for 
the politeness and kindness of the gentleman. 

But Burk could not forget the bright eyes and blooming 
cheeks he had thus so strangely met with. He thought he 
had never seen such a striking beauty ; and “ gracious me ! 
she was like a lump of lead. If we were,” thought he, “ to 
estimate beauty like the Mussulmans, by weight, I will 
back my snow-bird against anything of her inches.” He did 
not suppose he would ever see her again, and with a sigh 
and some brandy gave up all hopes. 

In a few days the pavements had become impassable for 
pedestrians. All sought in the evening for a railway car or 
omnibus coming up town, and Burk found his only chance 


184 


THE METROPOLITES. 


for a ride was in a car that ran on a line through the Bowery. 
Before he reached his destination, an accident on the road 
indicated at least a half-hour’s delay. Burk thought he 
would find some solace in his pipe on the pavement. W ant- 
ing a light, he entered a store and asked for a match, while 
at the same time he was pressing down the tobacco. He lit 
his pipe with the light readily furnished to him, and as he 
was about to leave he turned to thank the person, when he 
met a pair of brilliant eyes levelled in a steady gaze upon 
him from the opposite side of a glass case containing fancy 
articles for sale. He returned the look, and as he remem- 
bere'd the Broadway adventui’e, he exclaimed: ^‘Nothing 
pleases but railroad accidents ; Shakspeare, thou reasonest 
well. Do you remember me. Miss ?” 

“ I have to thank you for your politeness,” she answered, 
with a most bewitching smile. 

“ Enough said among friends. My name is Morton Burk, 
and now tell me what is yours ?” at the same time picking 
up one of her business cards, and reading “ Smith.” He 
looked up in her face, all suffused with blushes, as he added : 
“ Smith ! Smith ! I think I have heard of a Smith before, 
and Ids name was John. However, here is my pasteboard,” 
handing her his card, “ in exchange for yours.” 

He politely bade her good evening, muttering to himself . 
“ Henceforth no pent-up TJtica shall contract my benevo- 
lence, for I shall love the boundless universe, the universe of 
Smiths.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


185 


CHAPTER xvn. 

Major Watavode is worthy of a chapter to himself. 
Major WayAVode of Virginia is a celebrity in Xew York. 
Not to knoAv Major F. F. Y. WayAvode of Virginia, is to 
argue yourself a nobody. Major F. F. V. WayAVode of VTr- 
giula, now at the Astor, is a great man. His eleA'ation in 
society is mainly due to merit alone, and to the strangest of 
all merit — to his modesty. Not modest assurance, another 
name only for impudence, whatever tlie Spectator may haA e 
published to the contrary. The Major’s great Aurtue and 
talent Avere modesty, diffidence, deference to others, and 
e\"er yielding to bis friends. 

The exact date in the chronological order of important 
events Avhen the Major made his first appearance on the 
stage of public life at this far-famed hotel is unknoAA n. 
Obscurity seems to hang around the origin of all greatness, 
as it has ever been observed by a sage in Brooklyn, that 
the darkest hour precedes the daAvn. But the Major’s name 
Avas a feAV' years before duly recorded in that register con- 
taining the autographs of all our great men. With his inex- 
orable modesty, he only announced himself as Mr. Waywode. 
The next day a servant, insinuating some disparaging remark 
about his antecedents, was immediately dismissed from the 
establishment. 

One of the gentlemanly clerks in the office, howeA^er, who 
at the time was meditating a universal biography of all the 
guests ever stopping at the Astor, was struck Avith the remark 
of file discarded servant. He immediately instituted quietly 
a series of personal researches in the neighborhood of Hud- 
son street, which were crowned with the most happy results 


186 


THE METROPOLITES. 


in complete success. Mr. Waywode was in humble circum- 
stances and a cordwainer, an artist in ladies’ gaiters. He was 
unmarried, and unblessed with those social comforts which 
keep away gloom and the blues ; and being desirous of not 
only seeing the world but also of rising in it, he resolved to 
take boarding for a few weeks at the Astor. His finances 
justified the experiment, and in the meantime he reserved his 
more homely lodgings, which saved that item of expense. 
Mr. Waywode was pleased with the trial, and at the expira- 
tion of two weeks, when the special appropriation was about 
covered, he promptly paid his bill to resume his professional 
labors in the service of the ladies. 

The polite and ever attentive clerk in the office with the 
biographical turn of mind, noticed that Mr. Waywode was 
in proper trim, quiet, ' retiring, and, above all, extremely 
modest. He never addressed any of the guests unless first 
accosted, and, by his unobtrusive manners, the few with 
whom he entered into conversation thought him a very well 
informed gentleman, especially as he always assented to 
every opinion expressed — the best way in the world to obtain 
a rapid reputation for sense and intelligence. 

On his next visit his name was entered in the register as 
Major Waywode, by the same ever watchful clerk. Foitu- 
nately, the same evening, one of the local reporters for the 
press stepped in to notice those who had come, and insisted 
on the clerk giving him a small list of distinguished arrivals 
for the morning papers. In due time, therefore, appeared in 
the appropriate column among the celebrated notables stop- 
ping at the hotels, the name of Major Waywode of Virginia. 
Two or three of the young men in the office, being sworn to 
secresy, were informed how it occurred. Waywode’s next 
advent was known to the world by the publication that 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


187 


“Major F. F. Y. Waywode of Yirginia has taken rooms at 
the Astor House.” 

Now it is true in the register certain hieroglyphics were 
set opposite to his name, indicating him as the luxurious 
occupant of one of the most sumptuous suites in the house. 
But the fact was, the rooms were engaged by a party 
expected daily, and to keep them vacant this plan was 
adopted by the ever enterprising clerks, to appease some 
importunate guests just arrived who demanded them as 
unoccupied. 

By this time the Major’s person was familiar to many, and 
Ilia acquaintance extended without any overtures on his part. 
He received cards of invitation to the openings of railroads, 
to trial-trips of steamers, to witness the operations of some 
new and valuable inventions, to literary and scientific cele- 
brations ; and at one of these the papers, by a wrong colloca- 
tion of names, made him appear as distributing diplomas in 
a Greek salutatory. The professor, however, who was thus 
unintentionally depi ived of his due honors in the performance, 
addressed an explanatory note to the editors, correcting the 
mistake of the types : but in his extreme caution lest he 
should give offence to the unseen Major, he complimented 
his “well known distinguished talents and erudition” in 
such handsome phrases, that two or three ambitious colleges 
were on the eve of inviting the learned Waywode to 
“ adorn” a chair in the dead languages. 

It must not, however, be supposed the Major could find 
time to attend the cricket matches, the target firings, the 
Union Course trainings, the receptions of bearded and belli- 
gerent exiles, the callings upon guests of the city, inspections 
of rified cannon and sixty-five revolvers, the private exhibi- 
tions of paintings, and a thousand other patriotic duties, but 


188 


THE METROPOLITES. 


all of which were published with his name figuring as one 
of those present. When the public were mourning his 
retirement to his estates in the South, slight notices occasion- 
ally appeared of his being nominated to Congress ; of his 
coal mines flooded in the last terrible freshet ; of valuable 
gold deposits discovered on his property ; or of his intention 
to sell out his plantations and slaves preparatory to a perma- 
nent residence in a beautiful villa on the Sound. 

One or two of the local reporters at last discovered the 
source from whence emanated such intimate knowledge of 
the Major’s actions and opinions. But in their hands the 
secret was safe and valuable ; for it often happens in their 
business that names are wanted to fill up certain gaps which 
may occur by inadvertence with those from whom they re- 
ceive their information. The Major consequently appeared 
.at all the indignation and mass meetings as a vice-president, 
secretary, or in some other public capacity. He witnessed a 
great many accidents on Broadway, and was once killed — it 
could not be helped — in a railroad smash-up in Hew Jersey. 
But next day he was restored to life by the assistance of a 
telegraphic dispatch. He was also the “ unknown ” author 
of various political, or literary, or scientific papers, and had 
written an able document advocating the opening of the 
Afiican Slave Trade, demonstrating that the Congo negroes 
were better than Virgmia blacks, and Virginia blacks were 
preferable to all the white “ operatives ” in the Horth. 

His acquaintance with the Rose-Bud had been formed 
when on a trial trip of an ocean steamer. Two steamboats 
had an accidental collision in the Harrows, on one of which 
was Mary, with a large party who were on an excursion 
round Staten Island. The steamboat with Mary was about 
sinking, when the steamer on which was Waywode came to 


THE METROPOLITES. 


189 


their relief, taking the whole company on board. Major 
Waywode was particularly active as a wrecker ; and as the 
invited guests had each been presented at starting with a 
bouquet, and decorated with a white or red rosette, with 
ribbon pendant, their personal appearance was decidedly 
festive. Major Waywode showed himself every inch a 
sailor ; at least the papers asserted it next day. Major Way- 
wode was particularly attentive to the ladies. But in justice 
to the other old salts, some of the “ higldy respectable ” of 
the city, they were equally devoted to the pretty ones, 
although for family reasons they especially requested the 
special reporter not to make a note of it. The Major was 
soon in the good graces of Mary and her old father. lie 
took them under his kind protection, showing them all parts 
of the noble vessel, escorting them most gallantly to the 
dining saloon, and having all the delicacies, which were in 
profusion, served up to them, with flowing goblets of cham- 
pagne. The old man snapped his eyelashes, but requested the 
Major not to put himself to such trouble and expense ; for 
the veteran volunteer imagined the Major to be at least the 
principal owner in the steamer, and very prodigal in his 
entertainment. When they landed, Waywode would not 
quit their side until he liad seen them safely home, u here he 
bestowed the bouquet and rosette on the Rose-Bud as 
mementoes of the pleasant excursion. 

The special reporter furnished the papers with a graphic 
and thrilling account of the collision and disaster. lie intro- 
duced the ocean steamer most appropnately rushing to the 
rescue, like an eagle on rapid pinion, and was thus enabled 
most artistically to throw in a decorative puff for ulterior 
financial purposes, at the prompting of the owner. Major 
Waywode figured in the double character of a daring corsair 


190 


THE METROPOLITES. 


in action, and as a soft, seductive Lothario when the dangers 
were passed. 

The newspapers were in great demand next morning all 
along the Bowery. The excitement was up to the highest 
point of interest. The price of peanuts fell in proportion at 
the theatre and other classic institutions in that street, the 
sure barometer of the public mind being deeply agitated. 
The enterprising manager of the Bowery Olympic forthwith 
announced the play of the Wrecker’s Daughter for the ensu- 
ing evening, “ when Major Waywode of Virginia and other 
distinguished commanders will be present by especial invita- 
tion.” 

Morton Burk was much pleased with the glowing accounts 
he received from Mary and from reading the newspapers of 
the Major’s gallantry. He was, moreover, inclined to call on 
him at the Astor. As usual, he dropped’ in to the hotel to 
get his daily glass of good brandy, for wdiich the house is 
famous ; and having lounged into the office, he inquired care- 
lessly of our friend the clerk, with whom he was well ac- 
quainted, if Major Waywode was in his rooms. A knowing 
twinkle was in the clerk’s eye as he stuck a pen behind his 
ear, while he jerked at the bell-handle and said he would 
inquire. This twinkle induced Morton to pause and to tell 
him not to trouble himself. Soon after Burk was mitiated 
into the secret. 

For a young, idle gentleman like Morton, wffio was wanting 
excitement and willing to be pleased with any novelty, this 
biographical sketch of the Major was highly interesting. He 
was now anxious to form his acquaintance, but which he 
intended should not be commenced with a formal mtroduc- 
tion. The Major was imdoubtedly a character, and Burk 
was fond of all originals. He did not enlighten Mary as to 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


191 


his knowledge, nor would she have known the professional 
occupation of the Major, had he not himself, from a sense of 
honor, informed her of his trade. He became a constant 
and welcome visitor in the Bowery, and was the escort of 
the Rose-Bud frequently to the theatres or other places of 
public attraction. Burk was always willing to supply tickets 
for these amusements, and contributed them in such a man- 
ner as not to offend -the delicacy of the Major, it* he were 
influenced by such scruples, which may, however, be doubted. 
Morton himself not unfrequently had been seen with Mary 
at Niblo’s, and’ even in the parquette of the opera, where her 
pretty, innocent face and becoming dress made her the espe- 
cial mark of notice and admiration. But when the Rose- 
Bud discovered that these amusements, long drawm out, were 
not inviting to Morton, she was inclined to forego the plea- 
sure, as she never thought of self. But the Major was at 
hand to supply the place of IMorton, and she willingly ac- 
cepted his company, for he was delighted to be with her at 
these exhibitions, or wherever she might wish to go. 

Morton had informed Walter and jN'athan of the singular 
ambition of the Major, with his success in notoriety and dis- 
tinguished acquaintances. Although they never had heard 
of him, nor noticed the complimentary paragraphs in the 
papers, so remote was their circle of society from his asso- 
ciations, yet from Burk’s animated account of his life and 
adventures, they became interested in his history. They had 
both been introduced to Maiy by Burk at a promenade con- 
cert. Sabina, also, had thus been made acquainted with her, 
and occasionally Morton took them separately to call on her, 
at her home, in his frequent visits to the Bowery. It was 
quite natural that he should wish to exhibit her beauty and 
other rare merits to his young friends, for he was proud of 


192 


THE METROPOLITES. 


the superior attractions of the Rose-Bud. He was also 
anxious to plea,se and amuse her, and what could be more 
appropriate than the society of three of the most amusing 
or pleasing gentlemen, each of whom had become celebrated 
in the most refined and exclusive circles for some distin- 
guished talents. . Through the kindness of Burk, Major 
Waywode had been introduced to these fashionable gentle- 
men, when he was fortunate to meet them at the trimming 
store. The Major was fully sensible, of the honor of the 
acquaintance, and his modesty increased in due proportion 
to his elation of spirit. 

The happiest moment of the gallant Waywode’s life may 
be said to have culminated when he would find himself with 
IMary leaning on his arm as they were leaving the opera. 
Then they were sure to be delayed in the brilliant corridor, 
in the ciowd of beauties of fiishion and of splendor, the 
most celebrated in the city. To observe the respectful ad- 
miring gaze of the handsome dressed gentlemen, and the 
straining eyes of the fascinating ladies looking in wondering 
inquiry on the lovely creature whom they did not know ; 
then to notice with deliglit the graceful salutations of Burk 
and Walter, of Sabina and Trenk, as each raised his gloved 
hand to uncover as she tripped along ; can it be doubted 
her sweet smile was bewitcliing as she returned gratefully 
these complimentary recognitions ? How much the Rose- 
Bud she appeared to the full-blown and faded flowers in 
elegant toilet around her ! They would have given all their 
diamonds and pearls for her pretty face, for her sweet lips, 
for her blooming cheek and beaming eye. The ladies never 
looked at Waywode ; all tljeir admiration was for the decided 
beauty clinging to his arm. It w^as no matter if he were not 
full and fashionably dressed. Did not all the gentlemen say 


THE METROPOLITES. 


193 


he was from Virginia? and any solecism of dress in him 
was therefore excusable ; being only a southern latitude, not 
within the prohibited degrees north which forbid such a sin 
against the canons of good taste. 


CHAPTER XYin. 

Ijf a preceding chapter Mary’s father was left waiting 
in pleasing anticipation of the oysters Morton Burk had 
ordered. The snow was falling fast against the windows ; 
the wind was blowing with violence, indicative of one of 
those cold winter storms disastrous to shipping and distress- 
ing to the poor. Mary had taken a seat on the sofa to talk 
to the Major, when a loud rap was heard at the front door. 

“ Who can that be,” she remarked, “ out in such a night 
as this ? It must be one in great want of something.” 

“ Let them wait till morning,” exclaimed Morton. 

“ Surely when they come in such a storm,’^ said Mary, 
“ some urgent haste must be the cause. Poor soul I I will 
go and see.” 

When she took down the bar, a man well muffled up, white 
with snow, entered, closing the door behind him. “ What a 
night it is !” he muttered, making his way to the inner room, 
where he commenced throwing off his wrappings. As he 
slowly removed the tliick shawl, IMr. Sabina stood revealed. 

“ Just in the nick of time, Don Nicolas,” said Burk, sliak- 
ing hands with him. “ It is kind in you,” Mary added, “ to 
visit us ill such a night. How did you get here ?” 

“ The snow is deep,” Sabina answered, “ still the cars are 

9 


194 


THE METROPOLITES. 


running. But where are Parker and Trenk ?” looking round 
in surprise. 

“ Did you expect to meet them here 

“Yes, Miss Mary. I left them only a few minutes ago, 
and they said they were coming.” 

“ That would be delightful,” she cried ; “ if they only 
would come, then you would all be here at once.” 

At that instant a loud knock was given ;igainst the outer 
door, when Mary exclaimiug : “ I suppose I must see to 
them,” hastened again to the entrance. They, however, 
remained in the store to remove their cloaks, with other thick 
protections, before making their appearance. On entering, 
it was perceived they were in full evening costume. 

“ Miss Mary, we have come to comfort you in this snow- 
stoian,” said Walter, seizing her hand. “And you must 
know we have always some pleasure in anticipation when we 
go abroad in such weather.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Parker ; if the storm brought you, I am 
sure I do not regret the snow falling.” 

“ Very prettily expressed, Miss Mary. What have you to 
say to me ?” asked Nathan, as he took her hand. 

“ I have the same for you,” she replied, blushing deeply. 
“ I hope I may often see both, even without the storm.” 

The gentlemen exchanged salutations with the old man 
and Major Wajwvode before being seated. 

“ Where were you bound for this evening,” Burk inquired, 
“ if the snow had not fallen so fist and furious ?” 

“ First we were going,” said Walter, “ to Mrs. Laura’s ; 
next to a neighbor of hers, I forget the name, in the block 
below ; then to the Bachelors’ Ball at the Stuyvesant.” 

“ And you have given up all for us ?” exclaimed Mary, 
with a grateful, fascinating smile. 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


195 


“Yes, Miss Mary, the storm decided us. We knew we 
would find you at home ; an unwonted pleasure, greater than 
balls or parties.” 

“ But suppose,” said Burk, “ you had been caught in a 
snow-drift, and compelled to remain in the railroad car all 
night ?” 

“ I was afraid of that as we came along ; but I fortified 
myself against suph a calamity by making beautiful moral 
reflections,” answered Walter, with great gravity. 

“With making horrible puns,” Nathan remarked. 

“ What were they ?” Burk asked. “ I can survive them, 
as I have a toothache. Let me not burst in ignorance here 
within bow-shot of a Cooper' Institute.” 

“His first exclamation was,” said Nathan, “when he 
thought we would be buried in the drift, ‘ This is the life of 
a recluse, of a Car-thusian, a sort of Don Car-los the Fifth 
existence, to be thus in-car-c-rated.’ ” 

“ Spare me, spare me,” sighed Burk ; “ I would prefer the 
raging tooth. Did the accommodating driver call in the no 
less vigilant police ? or did he propose to contract with Mr. 
Parker to sprinkle Attic salt along the rails for snow-melting 
l^urposes ?” 

“It is all a mistake,” interposed Walter, with much 
solemnity, “it is all a mistake. I was speaking of an 
avalanche and the monks of St. Bernard, with their snow- 
dogs.” 

“ It is true he spoke of dogs,” said Nathan, “ for he asked 
me if I had ever heard of the lines on a Newfoundland.” 

“ Oh, do not, Mr. Trenk, repeat them,” implored 
Burk. . 

“ It was not poetry, but something about an animal being 
run over by cars in the avenue.” 


196 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


“ I appeal to you, Miss Mary, if this is fair,” cried Walter, 
turning to her, who he observed was pleased with the con- 
versation. “ Is this fair, to have all my wit spoiled by an 
envious description of it, and a no less malicious spirit with 
which it is received ?” 

“ I do not think these gentlemen good judges,” said she. 

“Thank you, thank you, fair lady. Nathan may know 
something of a song, and Morton something of a smoke- 
pipe or supper, but ladies only are capable of appreciating 
my conversation.” 

“ Speaking of suppers,” said Burk, “ reminds me of oysters, 
and liere they come,” as he heard the rattle of dishes in the 
adjoinmg room. 

The arrival of the additional company delayed the old 
negro man in preparing his entertainment, which was now an- 
nounced. Walter escorted Miss Mary to the head of the 
table, while Nathan took a seat at her side, and the other 
gentlemen found chairs farther from her. The Nubian, as 
Burk called him, knew well how to provide on these occa- 
sions. Not only were the articles cooked to perfection, but 
the glass and plate requisite for a handsome display were 
forthcoming by him also. The room was cheerful, well 
lighted, while the table was resplendent with decorations, 
china, and silver. The Nubian was the great man for festi- 
vities in those regions, and knew his business. His punch 
was also hot, well brewed ; the champagne excellent. It 
was a great gratification to Mary to observe the attention 
bestowed on her old father by the gentlemen, who were 
careful in assisting him to all that might be tempting, and to 
Icet'p his glass filled with launch, which he preferred to wine. 

They had many pretty things to say to her — well turned 
compliments, with little attentions which their constant 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


197 


intercourse with refined and polished society made both 
graceful and natural. They had also a full flow of spiidts to 
render the general conversation entertaining and amusing. 
The Veteran snapped his gray eyelashes in great satisfaction, 
seeing himself thus surrounded with this splendor, in company 
with such distinguished guests. The Major sat in modest 
wonder, in self-congratulation at his great altitude in the 
social scale above Hudson street. Sabina seemed content to 
cast furtive side-glances at tlie beautiful girl at the head of 
the table, without any wish on his part to be noticed by the 
other gentlemen. 

But when the dishes were removed a general desire was 
expressed for Nathan to contribute a song or some other 
music for their entertainment. Burk had made a present to 
Mary of a piano, plain, to be sure, but yet excellent in its 
tone, that he designed for her amusement at times like 
this. His own guitar and cremona had also been sent on a 
former occasion when Nathan was expected. He readily 
complied with the wish, and sang a few pieces from “ Lalla 
Rookh ” with a grace and feeling which would have done 
credit even to their author. 

“ How fond Nathan is of love songs,” Walter remarked. 
“ One would suppose him to be an inflammable mortal ; but 
let me assure you. Miss Mary, he knows nothing of the 
‘ tender passion.’ ” 

“ I would rather have the assurance of ladieSj who perhaps 
know more on the subject,” she replied. 

“ You cannot expect him to make love,” said Morton. 
“ He is like Bob Acres, who bought it ready-made.” 

“ It was not love,” said Walter, “that taught him song, 
nor song that taught him love.” 

“ A misquotation,” Morton exclaimed ; “ and probably un- 


198 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


true. You may remember, Mary, tbe flat transgression of a 
schoolboy who, o’erjoyed in finding a bird’s nest, showed 
it to his companions, and had to jDut up with the conse- 
quences.” 

“Alas !” said Walter, “he has never told his love what he 
thinks of her, but lets concealment, like the Avorm in the rose- 
wood, feed upon her damask curtains.” 

“ The Niagara cataract of true love,” added Morton, 
“neA^er did run smooth. You are in suspension like the 
bridge at that abyss, where you must look out -for rocks.” 

“ Yes, a pocket-full of rocks,” said Parker. 

Nathan touched the notes of the new song, then popular 
Avith the Babes, and, addressing the Rose-Bud, asked her if 
she had heard this mournful ballad. “ Don’t listen to it, 
Miss Mary,” cried Walter. “ It is a slander on the sex, only 
sung by old bachelors like Nathan and these other disap- 
pointed misanthropes.” 

Mary and the gentlemen, however, demanded the song. 
As it required three or more voices, they all volunteered their 
services. “ Let Sabina take the soprano ; I will try the 
basso,” said Morton. “You, Walter, lead in the forlorn 
hope, while Nathan will draw out his ‘tenor reserves,’ ” at 
the same time seizing and tuning his cremona. 

“ Ordered like a* field-marshal going into action,” cried 
Walter ; “ and if you come out Auctorious, I AviU create yon 
a Duke — ^Duke of Monongahela.” 

“ Let it be old, Walter, old,” Morton implored ; “ of the 
last century, of the Bourbon aroma — an aroma you never 
forget, nor wish to learn any other.” 

“ I am afraid,” said Nathan, “ that spirit has often proved 
fatal to American chivalry.” 

“True,” answered Walter, “many a gallant oflicer has 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


1P9 


succumbed to^ its prowess. But can the Field-Marshal, our 
new Duke, tell us who was the first hero who fell at the 
bung-hole embrac-ure?” 

“ I suppose,” said the Duke, “ General Braddock was the 
man who took the original unfortunate pull at the Mononga- 
hela.” 

“Good! good!” exclaimed Walter, in mock admiration. 
“ The Ethiopian minstrels would relish such wit. Strike up, 
Nathan, like the same sable troubadours immediately after 
their flashes of genius, and let us have the song or I shall 
choke with envy.” Whereupon the music began. 

Sabina surpassed all expectations in his share of the per- 
formance. He gave pantomime, and mimicry, and carica- 
ture in perfection as accompaniments to his peculiar voice. 
Not only did Mary laugh, but the others were almost incapa- 
ble of executing their part from the interest they took in his 
antics. Thus encouraged, he continued his exhibitions after 
the music ceased, giving many more of these wonderful 
imitations which formerly astonished Trenk. JMary gazed 
in surprise and admiration at this strange creature, who 
seemed capable of reproducing sounds, however singular or 
grotesque. He finished at last from sheer exhaustion. 

It required persuasion and importuning by Nathan and 
Burk to induce Walter to try any novelty for further enter- 
tainment. But Trenk commenced a tune on the piano, and 
ui'ged Parker to go on with the words to which it was 
adapted. With much coaxing, Walter began one of those 
improvised recitations in verse — a talent quite common in 
Tuscany, but rare among our coimtrymen. Keeping time 
to the music, he sung or chanted the following, with its 
various allusions to the persons present and to passing 
events : 


200 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Ths sleet and snow fall fast, fall deep to-night, 

But what cares the Duke, with his locks so white ; 

He sits by the blaze, and he smokes away. 

Happy as cricket in the month of May, 

Or young Buttons, up town, with bells and sleigh, 
And fifteen-hundred-dollar bob-tailed bay. 

'i'hen well may he smoke, regardless of snows. 

For has he not friends wherever he goes? 

Wherever he goes, at his beck and call. 

And perhaps a soft eye on him may fall. 

Color your beard, whispers kindly each tongue. 
Remembering well the old poets have sung, 

“ Those whom the gods and the girls love, dye young.” 
He loves a love-song, to drive duU care. 

With good wishes to all, and some to spare. 

For counsellor-sage, who learn’ d in the laws. 

When fun’s going on ever tries to show cause ; 

For the mimic, too, who gains our applause, 

Who talks with his limbs instead of his jaws. 

And the gifted fair youth, with golden voice, 

Whose light Peri notes make mortals rejoice ; 

And the soldier brave, from the clime of the South, 
Seeking the bubble in the cannon’s mouth ; 

And warrior old, at last finding rest. 

In the arms of his child whom he loves best. 

But what can we sing of the Rose-Bud bright ? 

Sylph-like in grace, a sweet angel of fight ! 

’Tis magic to look on her hazel eye — 

Madness to love her, to hope, and to sigh. 

Not to be won like the maiden forlorn. 

With music on harp or trumpet or horn, 

Tho’ breathed in her ear till the dawn of mom. 

But the Duke holds carouse ! His health we crave ; 

Long life to the Duke, — ^long, long may he wave. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Qnce more with a tiger — hurrah ! hip I hip 1 
Most free from the heart, most loud from the lip. 

The tiger again ; and give it once more 
Deeper and louder than given before : 

Long life to the Duke, and long may he wave, 

The last cheer we give, ’twas the first we gave. 

Now bring us more punch, you old man of jet, — 
Won in a raffle or lost in a bet ; 

’Tis no matter which — we live by your sweat; 

Not left in Eden, with a garden to let. 

When Adam at Eve went off in a pet. 

They stole you from home, thou old man of wool, 
Stretching God’s law as they gave the long pull, 

Which shipp’d you a slave and sold to John BuU, 

Who once of such ebony had his hands full. 

Old man of wool I Not to eat you, old man. 

Did they rob you from wife, children, and clan ; 
But to shear your hide pf humanity’s fleece. 

The toil of your hands in a lifelong lease. 

Thou two-legged mutton, done pretty brown. 

When sold for down South, the richest Southdown. 
Famous and free as fair Athens of yore. 

Her prestige high be it thine to restore. 

For thou art proud grease, living grease, once more. 

Then squeeze strong the lemon, mix well the wine. 
Spurs to the stupid is tasting the vine. 

We drink not in secret, we drink not alone. 

We quaff from goblets fit for a throne. 

To the lively drone of sweet Mellowtone, 

Or the volcanic tale of old Brimstone. 

Bring fortlj the bivalves, and let them be brought, 

Like Mazeppa on horseback, naked and hot, 

Dress’d natwel, as they sent him to pot, 


202 


THE METROPOLITES. 


In a very great stew to Tartary Grim ; 

A crim. con. tartar emetic for him, 

Dos’d, dos-a-dos on the outside of quod, 

A quad-ru-ped-anti-stop him roughshod. 

Let them be roasted or broiled if you wish, 

Serve them up soon in well seasoned dish ; 

’Tis too much honor for this dull oyster, 

Thou maritime monk in sea-mud cloister. 

Always at home, shut up in your shell, 

A hermit in habits in your damp cell, 

With cellery odor — a celestial smell. 

Thou bearded friar of an order gray. 

Which is an order to fry without pay ; 

On no visiting terms with fur, feather, or fin, 
No gossip’s rich tale of saints, or of sin, 

No open mouth save to take somebody in, 
That can be done with a swallow and snap, 
Without a palaver, you silent La Trappe, 

Living alone, with whims the most selfish, 

A stupid and blind, deaf and dumb shell-fish, 
With no ear for music, a tuneless thing. 

You’d swallow salt water sooner than sing. 

No family ties, with no pride of kin, 

No blood-relation to the terrapin ; 
Forty-second cousin, like “ whiskey-skin,” 

To the mysteries, of IJdolpho gin, 

The berry’d body in Bininger’s bin : 

Which cold-water mortals yet recommend. 

To antique maiden and to broad-brim Friend ; 

For fits of the blues — very, blue to make 
Those who cut conscience for the stomach’s sake ; 
Giving them strength human sins to deplore, 

That bring too often this Wolf to the door. 

9 * 


THE METROPOLITES. 


203 


If you were a nun at peace in your bed, 

Trusting to luck to be, now and then fed 
By spoon-bill duck, nothing more need be said. 

When the moon’s gone down, when the stars have fled. 
When winds whisper low, and the beacon’s ahead ; 
When the waves are still as sea of the dead. 

Beware the fiend who on mischief has sped ; 

Beware of his speU as he heaves, the lead 
For pirate to find your Chesapeake bed, 

Whereon you sleep cool as if twelve months wed ; 

For the sign is made, and the charm is laid, 

And chance of escape “ not worth the first red.” 

But if from Blue Point with a sea-weed veil, 

A strong-minded vestal from head to tail, 

You come a Blu-mer-maid in coat of male, 

Never minding your skirts in snow, slush, or hail ; 

Fresh, juicy, and sweet, the pick of the Point, 

Not bothered with arms, legs, — or nose out of joint. 
We’ll bless you and dress you from tip to toe. 

Not a bit of your neck or mole will show. 

In salt and pepper cap, with mustard bow. 

And Newark cider for Cologne de eau. 

Manhattan you’ll call an isle of the bless’ d. 

Wandering in bhss superbly dress’d ; 

With fixings all new — the richest and best — 

Which for weeks and months have given no rest 
To the rest of mankind and Bemorest. 

If in for a spree, shells and vows you break. 

Not dreading the embrace of dredging rake, 

What sputter, we can’t utter, you will make 
To be hauled over coals, near to a steak ! 

Old Downing loves well, an anto de fe^ 

Of young virgin victims from Oyster Bay. 


204 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Hut you’re not one of the sex called divine, 

No doubt from wearing the pure crinoline, 

Which saints long ago brought into fashion, 

To wean their thoughts from all earthly passion, 

• With a rude, rough hair-shirt up to the chin, 

A soul-preserver in a flood of sin. 

The first patent out for chemise of crin. 

Mankind is your foe, mud monk crustaceous. 

For you’re in sooth a sinner ungracious, 

But neither pugnosed nor yet pugnacious. 

’Tis very well known why you keep to yourself, 

Not that you are old and laid on the shelf, 

Not lost an election, wager, or debt, 

Your senses, teaspoons, or a silver set; 

Not that you suffer from bank or heart break. 

Hard bargain, hat lost, tight boot, or toothache, 

Burk’s puns, bosom friends, pants burst— an earthquake — 
Pot-luck, kettle-drum, and tin-pan clam-bake. 

Or Joe Miller -torture, worse than the stake. 

Yet for all that you’re a hard-shell sinner. 

Come tell us the way, how did you win her ? 

You will not deny a toothless old churl 
You keep in your house, the mother of pearl. 

Fair, smooth, and firm is her resplendent skin. 

Was it only for this you took her in ? 

Not a hand will she lift, not even to spin. 

Not even street yarn, delightful as sin. 

She don’t care for a hole in your stocking. 

To roll up her eyes to scream “ how shocking!” 

No matter how cold all over you feel. 

With poverty, too, you may be down in the heel. 

We lay up in woollen our cash, you know, 

When tide in affairs is at its flow ; 


THE METROPOLITES. 


205 


But if cometh bad luck with an ebb quite low, 
Stock in stocking we seek for coin to show 
To the last dime down in the heel or toe. 
Without gold, all’s up, life a merej^’sco, 

Better go under for our sad mis-go, 

To grim Treasury Sub — or to Cisco. 

Fou keep her for taste, you keep her for pleasure, 

Is that the best plea as an “ art treasure ?” 

All feminines, truly, are treasures of art. 

We’ve long learned that strain, we know it by heart. 
Treasure of art ! of pride, and pretence, 

“ Don’t be foolish, love, don’t mind the expense,” 
Without Centrals, contracts, dollars, or sense. 

Mother of pearl’s an old nymph of the sea. 

Perhaps she warbled the same to TJlyssd, 

Who, fearing a wreck from that lyric blast, 

Tied himself up with tarred rope to a mast ; 

’Twas thus he gave them_the tar on rope’s end. 

At courageous safe distance not to offend. 

Nobody now uses tar on rope’s strand. 

As a family syrup soothing and bland, 

But tight up we’ll be if thus we expand. 

Look to it, salt-fed ! what are you about. 

Old mother pearl soon will have you shell out. 

- But why not speak truth, deal frank, and act fair ? 
Why not, thou round one, come out on the square ? 
’Tis weak as wet rag, a leaky excuse, 

An old umbrella in a storm of abuse. 

When you say it is done to defend her. 
Protesting yourself no young pretender. 

Never meant to be a double intender. 

A Blue Pointer she that never is lame. 

Put her into the field, tiy her at game. 


206 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


To point a moral or pile of brush, 

You’ll see neither cheek nor covey to flush. 

And blue she may be, surrounded with Blues, 

And good she can be as Goody-Two-S' oes; 

Moral she must be as Madame Grundy, 

Keeping at home both preaching and Monday. 
But, set up at a sale, what would she bring ? 

With copperish taste, not worth a brass ring ; 

Too thin in her shell, too far from her prime, 

Too scant for this market — dear at a dime. 

Now listen amazed, with wide open mouth, 

For gone she is to the land of the South, 

In her new tongue, tierra del Sud, 

For ever to quit her dear native mud ; 

Gone to the clime of the citron and vine. 
With myrtle and rose, to need no more twine 
For bouquets, from Mason and Dixon’s Line. 
She’s gone from us now, gone over the sea, 
Leaving behind her common pedigree. 

Fresh does she wear the prefix of a De, 

De-perlas among aristocracy. 

De she must have to mix well with ton, 

M P. is preferred by the British Don, 

A handle snobbish and soiled like the Hon., 
Which for honest is a seq^uitur non. 

Honi Soit is the chap ’tis best to employ. 

The pure Choctaw for a “ broth of a boy.” 

Flat is Doctor, Professor, LL.D., 

Or the once rich, chivalrous F.F.V., 

And college fellow who wins an A.B., 
like coroner’s stamp on a felo de se. 

In fact some large letter from A to T, 

Or from T to breakfast, with black Bohda, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


207 


As well will suit, for they are all sooty. 

There is her friend, the Senor De Famer, 

The great hated and petted girl tamer, 

If she chafe at the bit or kick over trace, 

When hitched in .harness too tight for her pace. 
There’s her beau dapper, the little De Ficit, 

Who once had a strange flirtation illicit. 

How did the papers happen to miss it ? 

They treated him grosser with green-eyed will, 
Because it was with the green grocer’s till. 

She received a bow from the grand De Faulter, 
What could do more among friends to exalt her ? 
The cut of his jib, too square for palter. 

Law’s fiction fixed to gibbet and halter, 

Rocked by winds on the rocks of Gibraltar. 

Concha De Perlas, in full, has grown fat. 

From size of a cup to crown of a hat; 

But give her some skirts, some flounces, and fuss. 
She’d take up one side of an omnibus. 

With ease, too, she learns the soft. Castilian, 

From isle of Cuba to the last Chilean. 

In colors to rival the bird flamingo, 

Slie flirts in the wave hearing fine lingo 
From the thickest of lips at San Domingo, 

For darkest of darkies is the Duke Bygingo. 

A tropical Lara is this Tycoon, 

With dip too deep for octoroon ; 

Not pale is he in the beam of the moon, 

But cold as marble at summer’s noon. 

Madly in love, like the Moor Othello, 

He moored his bell-boat at Porto Bello, 

For a belle amour, this same black fellow. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Now with bell for belle is bellig’rent dive, 

If resolved to have her dead or ahve. 

’Tis trespass to cruise in the shark’s domain, 
Which he resents till the wounded and slain 
Are seen to float on the surface again. 

A corpse is Bygingo towed on breakers, 

With the undertow for undertakers. 

This ravenous fish, claiming freebooter’s fee. 

Is never at fault, though always at sea. 

He watches the “ banks,” their “ keys ” and “ bars,” 
And paid is his toll near the isle of cigars. 

He tends to the wrecks which storms engender 
He tends to a boat if they try to mend her, 

But at his own banks no legal tender. 


* * * 

* * * 

* * * 

Hs ♦ * 


* * 

* * 

* * 

* * 


* * 

* 

* * 

* 


The Duke is asleep, and so is the Don, 

The Major is silent, pretty far gone ; 

But thou, charming dear child, smile on us yet, 

Smile sweetly, fond one, till the stars have set. 

When the hours grow short, when the lights grow dim. 
Fill high the goblet to the melting brim. 

We sing at St. Rose-Bud’s our morning hymn 

To Mary. 

Sleep, sleep, gentle maid, in happiness sleep. 

And be not afraid, our vigils we keep : 

Dream, dream, lovely child, in fancy free dream. 

With a spirit mild as the moon’s pale beam : 

Lisp, lisp, too, our name in thy innocent breast 
To fan a soft flame, and we, too, are blessed : 


THE METROPOLITES. 


209 


And smile, smile once more with love’s ruby lip, 

Which mortals adore, where the bee might sip ; 

Break, break not the spell entrancing our heart. 

We bid thee farewell, in silence depart. 

Here cease we to sing, this strain give o’er, 

We shut up our voices to open the door. 

Dear ^Morton, wake ! you’re no beauty sleeping ; 

A drop in your eye I have you been weeping ? • 

Tender heart throbbing with too much feeling ; 

Drooping orbs sobbing, their secrets revealing ; 

Around the punch-bowl tendril arm stealing ; 

Take it to thy soul, worship it kneeling. 

No further delaying near dawn of day, 

We hear a voice saying, “ Come, come, oh pray. 

Now light your Dutch pipe and come, come away.* 

Farewell to these joys, away they must pass. 

Like foam on the wine, like frost on yon glass ; 

Like smile on the lip, or childhood’s first tear. 

Like stars in the morn, like mist on the mere. 

But mem’ry will often return to this scene, 

To dwell with pleasure on what here has been. 

Farewell to them, then ; we part in delight, • 

To dream of our friends of this happy night. 

Mary never had heard an impromptu recitation. She 
did not even know the talent for such an exhibition ex- 
isted. Her amusement was consequently great when per- 
ceiving the sentiments elicited by transpiring events. Her 
attention became at once fixed on Walter, while her artless, 
expressive countenance betrayed every emotion of her heart. 
Smiles, blushes, and tears suffused her fair cheeks in rapid 
succession, as the verse awoke light or deep thoughts in her 
simple mind. Her merry laugh at the martial ambition of the 


210 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Major ended in a silent sob and tear for the tender expres- 
sion to her aged parent; but her face was crimson at the 
sound of the trumpet and horn. The very monotony of ^the 
music, seemingly an endless repetition of a few bars, added 
to the novelty, imtil, bewildered, her hair became loose, fall- 
ing in beautiful folds over her snowy neck, while she laid 
one hand unconsciously on Morton’s arm. The music at 
length abruptly ceased. Then, after a moment’s interval, it 
was renewed, with the opening lines prefacing the serenade 
to the Rose-Bud, in a slow and sweeter stiain, with deep feel- 
ing, the highest compliment to her beauty, innocence, and 
fascination. 

Nathan rose at once from the piano declaring he must go. 
Morton made similar demonstrations, while Walter threw 
himself in a theatrical vein at Mary’s feet, and grasped her 
hand : “ Fair maid, I find no words to tell the thoughts for 

one I love so well. Bo not think of these heartless creatures 
until my return; tell Morton to take up his pipes and trudge 
away. Then hear my vow before I go, my dearest — ” But 
at this instant the growl of a dog, with the sound of a snap 
at his foot, cut off further declarations. Mary sprang to 
one side in alarm. Walter rose in some trepidation, as 
Morton and Trenk comprehended the ventriloquial ruse on 
the ]>art of Sabina. She immediately perceived the trick, 
and laughed tears in her eyes; but Walter protested 
“ against these BoAV-wow-ery embellishments not in the bills 
of the play.” 

They were now all gone, and this beautiful young creature 
sat silent and alone before the fire with her aged father. 
No abatement of the storm was perceptible without, and 
she commenced preparing a bed for her parent in this warm 
room. With the assistance of the housekeeper he was soon 


THE METROPOLITES. 


211 


comfortably disposed of, and, as he was fatigued with llie 
excitement and pleasures of the evening, he quickly sank into 
a quiet slumber. 

Mary once more resumed her seat at the fire, for her nerves 
rendered her restless and sleepless, sometimes turning her 
head to watch the placid sleep of her father. Then the fond 
memories and thick-coming fancies peopled anew her mind 
with the pleasing visions of the evening. She thought next 
of the trials, and struggles, and privations of her girlhood, 
of the slights, and indignities, and rudeness she had borne 
when receiving wages : of the privations and infirmities of 
her parent while she was too little to minister to him. Next 
rose her first attempts to sustain herself and the cares with 
which they were accompanied. These were followed by the 
first dawn of success, and then came the certainty of being 
able to maintain her position. How much in all this was she 
grateful ! How kind and beneficent had the Almighty been to 
her! Then to think of the comforts with which her father 
was now surrounded : the time she had at her disposal to 
cheer and make him happy ; above all, the happiness of hav- 
ing him with her. 

It was almost too bright a picture for this innocent girl to 
contemplate in her present position, with all its blissful hours, 
Avith its varied round of delightful pleasures. She Avas afi-aid 
it Avas too great a state of happiness to last ; indeed she 
sometimes doubted if it Avere real, if it Avere not only some 
seraphic dream that would vanish into a sad aAvakening. 
Again she paused and held her breath in suspense, while she 
asked, in self-communing, if it were not wrong and sinful. 
But no response came from an upbraiding conscience. Her 
heart beat quick, but Avithout those throbs that strike mourn- 
ful, deep-toned notes of Avarning to an erring soul. 


212 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


At last she threw herself upon her knees in prayer to pour 
forth her thanks for the blessings bestowed on her and on 
her aged parent, to invoke her heavenly Father to guide her 
erring footsteps from the paths of temptation leading to sin, 
and to so order that she should always have a light from 
above to aid her in this world where she was deprived of a 
kind mother’s care and counsel. She rose to impress a sweet 
kiss on her father’s lips, and hastened to her cold room, 
happy and innocent as she was young and beautiful. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Whex Nathan awoke next day at the usual early hour his 
eyes fell upon a note upon the table. It was from Charles 
Nevil, and brief. “ Do me the pleasure to breakfast with me 
in the morning ; say nine o’clock ; on business.” Nathan 
consequently was punctual to the time indicated. 

On entering Nevil’s spacious mansion he was ushered into 
his study or library, where he found that gentleman reading 
an article in a foreign Review. The room was large and well 
filled with books ; the furniture of massive oak, with green 
leather cushions for the chairs. An air of solid comfort and 
of good taste was perceived in every article that was visible. 
Maps, globes, busts, and scientific instruments were deposited 
in places most convenient for access; while papers, pam- 
phlets, and periodicals were arranged m systematic order. 

“ I am much obliged to you, Mr. Trenk,” said he, laying 
down the Review, “ for your prompt acceptance of my invi- 
tation to breakfast.” 

“ I am happy at all times, Mr. Nevil, to be at your service. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


213 

A breakfast business invitation does not denote any calamity 
affecting the nerves or digestion.” 

Ncvil smiled as be answered: “ I am afraid only a break- 
fast might not tempt you ; therefore, as a cream to your 
chocolate, I had to throw in a dash of something more palat 
able.” 

“ As a sort of postscript to a lady’s letter,” added Nathan. 

“ When had ever one of the fair sex space left for a post- 
script ?” 

“ You agree, then, with Tony Lumpkin, that the inside of a 
letter is always the cream of the correspondence,” said Nathan. 

“ Yes. Tony’s observation is more sensible than the slan- 
der on the ladies.” 

Thus talking, Nevil led the way to the breakfast-room, 
where they sat down to some choice dishes, but of which 
they ate sj)aiingly. “And now, Mr. Trenk, the rage of hun- 
ger being appeased, as the old classic author expresses it, let 
us proceed to business, which will be reversing the order of 
Jack the Giant-Killer, who declared, ‘ that now having cut 
off the heads of my enemies, let us proceed to bi’eakfast.’ ” 

“I think,” said Nathan, “that Jack was right in attacking 
giants early in the day. Pigmies, even, are formidable in 
post])randial encounters.” 

“A good application of that nursery tale. But, Mr. 
Trenk, most fortunately we have no giants to slay.” Mr. 
Nevil then proceeded to state, his attention had been called 
to the bonds of the Chestnut Swamp Railroad, guaranteed 
by the Air Line Company ; that the enterprise promised the 
most happy results ; but he was not willing to embark in the 
negociation until better informed as to the available means 
of the Air Line to make good its guarantee in the event of a 
default in the Chestnut Swamp. Having learned that Mr. 


214 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Trenk had made an examination of the affairs of the Air 
Line, Nevil wished to benefit by his conclusions, “ as you 
have not,” said he, “ been influenced by any bias of interest 
which may affect others in arriving at their more sanguine 
anticipations.” 

“ It is true I have made an investigation,” said Nathan, 
“ and no doubt the Air Line is amply aide in its assets to 
cover the guarantee. But I have now no interest in the 
matter, and iny inquiries were prompted to meet a contin- 
gency which might happen to my client, but which did not 
arise. I have, therefore, never given an opinion on the 
guarantee, although I thoroughly examined the question.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Trenk. I will now be willing to enter- 
tain the proposition with more confidence.” 

“ But I hope you will not act on what I have mentioned 
without further inquiry,” said Nathan. 

“ Certainly not ; but on a further examination, if your 
observations are confirmed, and I doubt not they will be, 
then I will be free to embark.” 

“I am afraid, Mr. Nevil, that a wrong view is taken of 
these bonds. You have stated a point to me, and my answer, 
although true, would still lead to great error if acted on. I 
do not volunteer opinions ; nor must you understand me to 
say^ these will ever be paid.” 

Nevil manifested some surprise at this unexpected remark. 

“ I do not apprehend your ‘meaning. Could you not be 
more explicit ?” 

“ The mode in which you have stated the matter does not 
require it,” Nathan answered. 

“ How could I be more lucid in my question ?” 

“ When Mr. Nevil desires my opinion of these bonds I 
may, perhaps, answer.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


215 


“ I have asked your opinion on the only point wherein 
a doubt might be cast upon them.” 

To this remark he made no reply. Nevil also remained 
silent for a few moments in reflection. At last he said : “ It 
is evident we do not understand each other. Perhaps you 
see objections to these securities which have never been 
stated ?” 

Nathan bowed his head affirmatively. 

“ Then I wish you to tell me what those objections are, 
if it be j)roper.” 

“ Our profession,” Nathan replied, “ are sometimes as much 
embarrassed as medical men in administering prescriptions. 
We are called in and desired to prescribe for certain symp- 
toms, and for nothing else. We do so, pocket our fee, and 
depart ; and when an accident Happens we are blamed for 
the loss. 'Now, Mr. Nevil, you wished iny opinion on one 
point, and perhaps did not desire any more. In truth, you 
might not have thanked me for too much light. Sometimes 
it is best not to know too much.” 

Nevil smiled an assent to this. “ But,” said he, “I assure 
you I wish all the light you can throw on these bonds ; al- 
though it must be confessed I cannot perceive what other 
objection co^ld be made to them.” 

“ With this understanding, then,” said Nathan, “ I must 
tell you the Air Line is not bound in law for the guarantee, 
and consequently its property will never be held for pay- 
ment.” 

“That is a startling objection, to be sure,” said Nevil. 
“ Will you tell me why ?” 

“ Because there is no law authorizing this contract.” 

“Then your opinion is that the bonds are worthless?” 
asked Nevil. 


216 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ The guarantee is worthless, as it is not binding.” 

Nevil paused a moment as he inquired slowly: “Have 
you ever intimated this doubt before ?” 

“ Never.” 

“ Can I hope that you will not divulge it as my counsel ?” 

“ I am not aware that you would lose from any business 
you have intrusted to me, and unless certain that you would 
be injured, I must express the same opinion whenever I am 
called upon as counsel.” 

“ Could you not keep it a secret ?” 

“Not unless specially retained for that purpose, in which 
event I would have to decline all business from others where 
this point might arise.” 

“Is it probable you will be soon consulted on this sub- 
ject?” asked Nevil. 

“ Not probable, but I cannot anticipate.” 

“ May I rely on your reticence until you are consulted, Mr, 
Trenk ?” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ In the event of your giving this opinion to others, may I 
ask you to apjjrise me of it ?” 

“ I will do so,” said Nathan. 

How much longer the conversation, if uninterrupted, 
would have continued is uncertain; but at this moment the 
door slowly opened, and a young lady entered with some 
timidity. 

“ Shall I come in ?” said she, with a sweet, clear voice. 

“ Come in, sister, by all means, unless you are afraid of 
this Blue Beard whom I am feasting.” 

Upon this invitation the tall, graceful, and certainly fasci- 
nating Helen Nevil approached and offered her hand to 
Trenk, who had risen to receive her. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


217 


“ I owe you, brother Charles, and your company an apo- 
logy for this intrusion ; but I supposed you were done with 
business and breakfast.” 

“ Certainly all business is done for, Miss Helen, when you 
make your appearance ; at least such is the effect upon 
me.” 

“ Thank you,” said she, with a . pretty smile ; “ and if 
Charles has no objections to the interruption,- I wish you to 
tell me something.” 

“ I will be as obedient,” said Hathan, “ as if you were my 
confessor.” 

“ Then is it true the new opera is in rehearsal ?” 

“ It is true. Miss Helen.” 

“ And a new ballet ?” 

“ That is not true.” 

“ Are any pretty arias in the opera ?” 

“ Two or three. Miss Helen.” 

“ Will you let me hear them ?” 

“ Whenever you wish,” said Nathan. 

“ Come along, then, and we will, I trust, find the grand 
piano of Charles in tune.” 

Her brother, smiling, opened the door for them to pass 
into the music-room, while he once more returned to his 
library. He threw himself in his accustomed seat, and gave 
way to the thoughts which crowded on his mind. The 
information communicated by Trenk had given him timely 
notice to escape from a tempting but ruinous speculation. It 
had moreover given him a better insight into Nathan’s cha- 
racter. “ Cautious and reserved, watchful but silent. ^Viid 
honest withal — yes, honest. I could not ind uce him to betray 
a client, and therefore I can trust him.” Thus reasoned 
Nevil to himself, while he slowly made some memoranda on 

10 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


^IS 

papers for future reference. “ But now for more important 
matters,” said he, as he rose and secured the doors against 
interruption. Opening a secret recess in the wall, concealed 
ingeniously in a panel, he drew forth from this .safe deposit 
box after box, small in size, but bound with brass bands and 
rivets of great strength. Unlocking one of these, he took 
out a case containing several miniatures of ladies. One was 
set in diamonds, and sparkled brilliantly in the dim light to 
which it was' exposed. Another beautiful countenance was 
revealed in plain setting, without one ornament to divide 
admiration with the painting. A third was in a silver case, 
inlaid with blue silk velvet, having steel clasps. Others were 
more or less rich or ornamental. But he gazed long and in 
deep attention upon each, as if he were drawing from the 
leaves of memory some sweet legend adapted to the lovely 
objects before him. 

Another box revealed precious jewels of great price ; dia- 
monds in clusters, some set in silver, others in gold ; strings 
of pearl, and in various ornaments; turquoise and rubies, 
amethyst, and many more. Here a large ring was studded 
with gems, and there a breastpin in the form of a greyhound 
or fox dazzled the sight. What memories and associations 
were linked with these jewels ! What tender recollections 
did they revive ! If their intrinsic value were equal to the 
wealth of princes, what must have been the inestimable price 
at which they were held from the tender scenes with which 
they were united in memory ? 

Another box was full of letters and written memoranda. 
They were done up in neat packages, classified by dates. A 
few of these he read, or glanced over, as if he had their con- 
tents engraven on his soul. His eye would dilate, his cheeks 
burn, and his lip tremble as he devoured the lines of some 


THE METROPOLITES. 


219 


Avitb throbbing pulse. These in turn he quit to open others, 
^VTitten in a difterent chirography, in more masculine bold- 
ness, and in several languages. At times he would permit 
them to fall from his hand, as he sat in deep thought, medi- 
tating on their contents. He would again start from his chair 
and stiide across the floor in agitation and mental embar- 
rassment. Anon he would resume the perusal, and sometimes 
smile at the light thoughts suggested by them. At last he 
returned everything to its appropriate place, and hastily 
closed the panel over all. But he still held in his hand one 
package of writings, which he threw upon the table, to tuni 
his attention to them. 

Charles Hevil, as has been remarked, was reputed wealthy. 
He was known to be strictly devoted to business, without 
any interest ever being manifested in subjects of literature, 
science, or art. True, he could sometimes elucidate happily 
a contested point in history, or explain a difficulty in physical 
science, or make an apt quotation. But all was with an air 
of such indifierence that his fi’iends could only regret his fine 
talents wasted in the eager pursuit of riches. His manners 
in the presence of ladies were distant, formal, and almost 
Cold ; while, for some unexplained cause, inexplicable per- 
haps to the sex, he was a general favorite with them. His 
devotion, however, to his mother and sister constrained him 
to be seen much in society ; but it was evidently a constraint 
from which he was glad to escape. He was never known to 
accept invitations from ladies to visit them. 

Another peculiarity no less remarkable was his extensive 
information on all subjects connected with business afiiiirs ; on 
men in the city, their histories, antecedents, relatives ; and on 
the current events, however foreign they might appear to his 
pursuits. The sources of his knowledge were incomprehensi- 


220 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ble, and to some it seemed he possessed the faculty of ac- 
quiring information of facts by a process of mental induction. 
Ilis fine perception of individual character, his laborious 
habits of investigation, and the cool, dispassionate judgment 
he formed of things around, may have perhaps enabled him 
to arrive at conclusions, aiid even to anticipate events unfore- 
seen to others. He had long ago discovered Xathan was 
neither rich nor dissipated, when Trenk was not aware that 
he knew him at all, and he had estimated his ambition and 
abilities almost before others noticed either. At the present 
moment he believed Xathan to be the most promising young 
lawyer in the metropolis, with a highly cultivated, well bal- 
anced legal mind, of good habits, and of indomitable indus- 
try. But he was far from expressing his thoughts, knowing 
full well the false, firmly rooted opinion to the contrary, 
among even those who were his clients. But how much more 
he knew of Trenk is uncertain. 

When Xevil opened the package of papei*?, a small minia- 
ture on ivory fell upon the table. He took it in his hand and 
gazed long and steadily on the young and charming features. 
Slowly a smile crept over his face, as he exclaimed : “ It is she 
herself, life-like, yet not like mortal life ; but it is true. Truth 
of the last century, still how different from the living reality ! 
History is not more unlike the truth of that period than 
she to this beautiful picture, taken in her first womanhood. 
And this is she, the belle of the past, the old Lady Dowager 
of to-day. Look at those eyes, ’wdth their piercing, glisten- 
ing brightness, so much like the eyes of the living. Well, 
Miss, judging from your sweet countenance, you must have 
a will of your own, and fire enough to keep a truant lover 
in a plentiful supply of hot water. Perhaps this too vivid 
flashing eye indicated reason impaired, a tinge of mania. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


221 


which he perceived or feared, and consequently fled in 
time.” 

Xevil laid down the antique miniature to unfold a bundle 
of old letters, worn, worm-eaten, and somewhat defaced. 
Kapidly he ran over the common expressions and tender 
phrases, excuses, chidings, and complainings that to him were 
without interest. In reading further his eye fell on the fol- 
lowing passages in a lady’s handwriting : 

“It seemed to me you were cold. Neither your words, 
looks, nor manner denoted it ; but a something in the air 
breathed it to me until my veins were chilled by the thought. 
Write to me, and only tell me that is a vain fancy or whim — 
a summer cloud upon the heavenly horizon of my fond hopes. 
Write to me, and tell me that your love is like mine, 
deep, absorbing, eternal. I must be quit of this phantom of 
doubt. I must once more see you, to hear that voice which 
is sweeter than an angel’s tongue, and to catch that smile 
which brings peace, and joy, and hope to my heart.” 

* * * ^ * * * * % ^ 

“No answer! no answer ! and I am desolate. My heart is 
sick, my soul is crushed, and this from you, for whom I would 
sacrifice my life, and for whom I would toil, labor, and beg ; 
for whom I would give up every comfort in life, and all other 
earthly enjoyments, and imperil my sbul’s salvation to be 
only with you, and to call you all my own. I cannot contem- 
plate a change in your afiections ; I dare not even think of it, 
for my veins are filled with fire, my brain becomes dizzy, and 
my feet fail me at the horrid thought. O God ! pardon me 
in thy mercy for permitting my love to set up an idol in my 
heart for never-ceasing worship. Pity me for this earthly 
love which has raised in my thoughts a mortal above my 


222 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Creator. Spare, spare me, for I have ventured all upon tliis 
hope, which, if lost, must send me wretched and raving to an 
early grave.” 

“At last your answer has come. Farewell! May the 
Almighty spare m*e, spare my brain from going mad. As I 
repeat that word I am mad, mad, mad! 'Well, go, for ever, 
for ever ! I have lost all mortal feeling ; I do not love you 
now ; I do not hate ; I have no words to tell you of the con- 
suming fire in my breast, and heart, and blood, and brain. 
You have done all, and I am punished. No hope, more! 
AU despaii* in the future, and death at last !” 


CHAPTER XX. 

Charles Nevil carefully folded up these letters, that 
seemed to be emanations of a mind imder the most intense 
excitement. The brain must have been at the point of in- 
sanity, and the veins consumed with a liquid fire, when they 
were written. Again a cast of thought came over him — over 
him, this grasping, avaricious plodder after wealth. He felt 
for the poor young creature thus desolate in the morning of’ 
life, and a tear almost dimmed his eye as he pictui'ed the 
intensity of her suffering and agony. No, no ; she had no 
longer the common feelings of humanity ; she did not love, 
she did not hate ; but it was something of both ; she would 
have killed him in her affection ; she would have loved him 
in her revenge. Poor soul ! what beauty, what pride, what 
passion, what fire ! Her strong feelings have kept her alive ; 
her desire for revenge has been to her the fabulous fountain 


THP METROPOLITES. 


223 


of perpetual youth. W ell ! she had her revenge, which 
came at last ; hut with it remorse ; and remorse has revived 
those tender feelings which some of these musty letters por- 
tray. 

Once more he returned to an examination of the various 
documents in relation to the history of this false lover. Nevil 
was a member of a secret fraternity, extending over many 
lands, and he was commanded by the primate of the order 
to transmit an account of a' deceased brother, Lionel Gray, 
an American. InNevil’s researches these papers now before 
him had come into his possession ; for Lionel Gray was the 
young merchant who had won the affections of Frances Or- 
mond, and who in a manner so cruel deserted her. 

To Nevil the cause of tliis desertion was known, but he 
had never before been apprised of the fatal consequences to 
this lady. It appeared that Lionel became aware of the 
existence of this secret brotherhood from some revelations 
made to him by one of the unfortunate victims condemned to 
the guillotine in the Reign of Terror. A few hours before 
the fatal cart arrived at the Conciergerie to convey the Cheva- 
lier Lansay to his doom, that nobleman intrusted his little 
personal trinkets and last wishes to Lionel, who had been 
permitted to visit him in prison. 

The Chevalier, having served in the French army in the 
American Revolution, was well known to young Gray’s 
father. He had sought out Lionel on his first arrival in 
Paris, and had been of much service to him. This nobleman 
was too conspicuous a mark to escape when every man and 
woman of note perished on the scaffold, if they did not efiect 
their escape by flight. Lansay remained in Paris, to be 
denounced as an aristocrat, and to be arrested. 

Lionel would also have shared the same fate had not a 


224 


THE METROPOLITES. 


youthful folly saved him. In the first efihrvescence of the 
Revolution he joined the Sans Culottes, and rejoicing about 
the same time in his first pair of whiskers, he, in the full 
burst of pati'iotism, painted them tricolor. This soon became 
a distinguishing mark, by which he was known everywhere 
as the young American of the Beard. As the Reign of Ter- 
ror came on, he retained his colors for safety ; Avhich, with 
the known fact of his being an American, was sufficient. 
The Chevalier gave him a sealed letter to a prince in Italy, 
who was then the primate of the secret fraternity, and at the 
same time desired Lionel not to marry until he received a 
communication in answer. He readily promised all his noble 
friend wished, and was present when the Chevalier’s head 
fell into the bloody basket. He immediately quit Paris in 
horror, to return home by the first sailing packet. 

For seven long years were the eyes of the secret brother- 
hood upon Lionel ; not directly, but indirectly, through 
agents, employes, and correspondents. His talents, his 
manners, his learning, his accomplishments, his virtues, his 
vices, were all known. His habits, his associations, his posi- 
tion, and property were also carefully reported. But as yet 
no response came from the prince to the Chevalier’s missive ; 
Lionel had long forgotten it, and also the partial engagement 
to Laiisay respecting an answer. 

When least expected, the long deferred letter in reply to 
the Chevalier’s arrived. It was brought by a scientific gen- 
tleman, a traveller, who was making a tour through Ame- 
rica. But it only referred to the bearer for an explanation. 
The traveller announced that Lionel was elected a member 
of the fraternity, and at the same time informed him that 
none of the order were ever permitted tO' marry, nor even 
allowed to have it known they were on terms of intimacy or 


THE METRO POLITES. 


225 


confidence with any lady except near relatives. The Che- 
valier had apprised him before of this interdict. But he was 
astonished at the total prohibition of female society beyond 
the domestic circle ; more especially as it was well under- 
stood that nobleman had sacrificed his life in saving a young 
duchess of the Faubourg St. Germain. He did not use the 
least precaution for himself in his courageous, self-immolating 
efiforts, lest he would thereby endanger her escape. The 
duchess published a narrative in which this fact was first 
revealed. 

After many long conferences with the scientific traveller, 
Lionel at last consented to enter the order. He forthwith 
broke ofi* his engagement with Frances Ormond, and soon 
after sailed for France, as their commercial house Tvas on the 
eve of bankruptcy through the French spoliations on Ame- 
rican shipping. When he arrived the Directory was over- 
thrown, and Napoleon was at the head of the government. 
It was difficult in the confusion of affairs to gain an audience 
or an attentive hearing, and it was therefore impossible to 
hope for redress with indemnity. Lionel, moreover, found 
himself a stranger in those streets, where formerly he was so 
well known. All the familiar faces were gone ; all was new 
and strange ; not only the people, but names, and even the 
physiognomy of the people. He made repeated efforts to 
gain an entrance in official quarters, but his success was par- 
tial, and redress distant as ever. His misery was intense, for 
min was before him, with the destruction of the fond hopes 
of his father. 

A vitality is in despair, a levity in the midst of mourning ; 
sometimes a lightness of heart when all is over, and all is 
known to be lost. In one of these strange moods he dressed 
himself in his costly court apparel ; he adorned his person 

10 =^ 


226 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


with all the taste, and art, and rich embellishments within his 
power. Then, with a smiling lip, and apparently the lightest 
heart, he repaired to the Palace. His easy impudence, his 
careless confidence, enabled him to force his way into the 
most secluded apartments, where lie found himself all at 
once among a crowd of the high officers of state whose 
names are now historical. 

Although a stranger to all present, he was aware that a 
new face was not a surprise where so many around him were 
not much better known, where some new man daily started 
into notoriety. Li such a brilliant company might be one of 
the brotherhood. But immediately a distant folding-door 
opened, and a small, thin, young officer, with a sallow visage 
and boyish appearance, in the full dress of a General of Di- 
vision, entered. The company formed themselves into a halt* 
circle as the First Consul approached. He addressed each 
person as he moved slowly along, and listened for a moment 
to the reply of the one spoken to. At length he stood before 
Lionel and fixed his large, piercing eye upon the young Ame- 
rican. Without quailing or for a moment losing his presence 
of mind, Lionel, with all the assumed audacity of which he 
had command, stepped one pace forward, and, in a voice loud 
enough to be heard by all (for all were gazing at him), said : 
“ General, a late cadet of the House of D’Lansay wishes to 
serve France, bourbon or Bonaparte, he cares not. He 
serves his country under any flag that saves her honor and 
leads to victory. You may have heard of the late Chevalier. 
I stood at his side as the knife fell.” 

A gleam of satisfaction was in the eye of the First Consul 
as he moved on with the expression, “ It is well.” Lionel 
immediately made a sign to attract any one who knew the 
signal, and waited the result, watching in the meanwhile 


THE METROPOLITES. 


227 


the raovements of that most extraordinary man of modem 
times. Napoleon passed on, and having completed the circle, 
vanished through the folding-doors where he had entered. 
Lionel turned to take his departure with the others who were 
leaving, when he felt his arm grasped by a middle-aged 
officer of high rank, who spoke with somewhat a German 
intonation of voice, as he observed : “ Will Monsieur permit 
me to ask how the Chevalier Lansay has a yoimger brother, 
when his mother died in giving him birth ?” 

“ You knew him, then ?” 

“ Like a brother,” squeezing Lionel’s arm. 

They walked on together in silence till they had cleared 
the Palace and regained the gardens in front, where they 
were beyond the reach of interruption. 

“ Now tell me. Monsieur Gray, what prompted you to such 
audacity in the presence of the First Consul ?” 

“ Desperation.” 

“ Well, it was successful. You are the first of the old 
noblesse who have given in their adhesion !” and here the 
General laughed at the thought, as he inquired : “What is the 
cause of your despair ?” 

Lionel told him of all his troubles, and of the difficulty of 
gaining even a hearing where all were new faces, and the 
oTces in so much confusion. He thought he might find one 
of the brotherhood in the court circle, to have a person to 
coimsel with. “ At least,” said he, “ no harm was in trying.” 

“ Is that all ?” exclaimed the General. “ I thought from 
the signal thrown out, some impending danger, some — you 
know wffiat claimed the attention of our order: and that the 
happy lot would fall upon me. But it is only your afiair, and 
of course I cannot assist.” 

“I want no assistance, sir,” interrupted Lionel. “I only 


228 


THE METROPOLITES. 


want a gentleman to give me some counsel. I would scorn 
to ask aid from the brotherhood for myself.” 

“ISTor would aid be extended if it were sought. Your 
temerity to-day, however, convinces me you are no unworthy 
member. When you declared you were with the Chevalier 
at the guillotine, I knew you and your name. Friends you 
will have so soon as the Faubourg hear of your arrival. The 
Chevalier’s fate is deeply deplored. But his relatives have 
no influence, and cannot serve you.” 

“ Then I am still at a loss for friendly advice,” Lionel re- 
marked. 

“ Your impudence is your best friend,” said the General. 
“ Go boldly, as you did to-day ; go to the Minister ; tell him 
you demand so many hundred thousand francs, and promise 
him the one-half. Double your account, and generosity will 
cost you nothing.” 

Lionel looked at him in amazement, as he exclaimed : “ He 
would hurl me out of the window !” 

“ He will be more likely to invite you to dinner.” 

“Is he so rapacious ?” Lionel asked. 

“ To be sure. All these new men must first be gorged be- 
fore they learn how to regulate their appetites. But they are 
all afraid of Americans since the expose made by your Com- 
missioners, when Talleyrand wanted a bribe.” 

“ That was an unfortunate exposure for our private inter- 
ests at this court,” said Lionel. 

“ Had it not been for that revelation, Monsieur Gray, 
which the English have republished so often, to show, no 
doubt, their immaculate honesty by comparison, all your spo- 
liations would have long since been adjusted. But you are a 
young nation, and will live and learn. So farewell,” said he, 
departing. The advice was taken. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


229 


Wlien Lionel Gray returned to New York from France, it 
was to assume greater responsibility, and to launch forth as 
the most enterprising and successful in business. His wealth 
was increasing rapidly, and he bid fair to rank as the most 
opulent merchant in the Union, But the disturbed condition 
of political affairs entailed heavy losses upon him ; and on 
several occasions he was on the verge of ruin, from which he 
retrieved himself with great skill. The war with England 
. put a check upon foreign commerce, and he once more suf- 
fered. But he always maintained the reputation for princely 
magnificence and hospitality. A serious illness, it was said, 
had affected his mind in so much that his powers of combina- 
tion and prompt action were impaired. When in the decline 
of life, he married a young orphan lady, and a few years 
thereafter disasters came thick and heavy upon him. 

It was the fraud of a friend in whom he confided that 
finally effected his ruin and caused his death. Mr. Chester 
desired some funds for a short period, and asked Lionel to 
aid him. This was readily granted by the loan of some 
securities not then required by Mr. Gray, but which Mr. 
Chester could use in procuring a loan. These securities were 
deposited with Lionel as a trust, but he merged them with 
his other property, knowing himself good for their amount. 

When they were called for by the parties to whom they 
belonged, Lionel sent to Chester to return them. Chester 
denied ever having received them, and demanded the proof. 
The answer came like a stunning blow to Lionel. He lost 
his presence of mind, and in his perplexity made some inco- 
herent revelations, which induced a suspicion of his honesty. 
The cry of embezzlement was raised against him. To his 
friends he said Mr. Chester had receh ed the bonds as a con- 
fidential debt; but Chester denied all knowledge of the 


230 


THE METROPOLITES. 


transaction. A run upon Lionel was made by his creditors ; 
his house stopped payment ; he was a ruined man. 

The papers of the period were full of statements and com- 
ments, in which Lionel Gray was portrayed as the swindling 
bankrupt, the lying scoundrel in purple and fine linen, who, 
unable to conceal his villanies, was willing in his ruin to drag 
down honorable men, like the highly respectable Mr. Ches- 
ter, one of the purest and best men of the age, who was an 
honor to any country. 

Forthwith writs were placed in the sheriff’s hands by 
every creditor to seize the body of the said Lionel Gray, and 
him securely keep in the vile, filthy jail with common male- 
factors until delivered by due course of law. For such was 
the happy state of affairs “ in the good old times,” of which 
so much is said in praise. Lionel was consequently arrested, 
while ministering to his young wife with an infant in her 
arms, and torn away from his home to leave misery and de- 
spair behind him. On the road to prison he asked permission 
to enter a tavern for a glass of water. He was there seized 
with a fit, and died on the floor of the common bar-room. 

A few nights after his death, an old lawyer might have 
been seen seated in a dark, dingy office in Reade street, 
deeply immersed in papers. He was small in stature, with 
fine, delicate features, almost feminine, dressed with great 
neatness, but in a style then considered antiquated. He took 
down a book in manuscript, and turned to a leaf that was 
marked, where he read as follows : 

“Wednesday. — To-day my distress is at its height. To- 
“ morrow I must starve. 

“Thursday.— I called on Lionel Gray, who I learned had 
“ arrived out direct from home. Found him in beautiful 
“lodgings in Rue St. Honore, Ho. 97, au second. He 


THE METROPOLITES. 


231 


“ received me kindly, cordially. I stated my distress. 
“ Whereupon he opened his secretary and drew forth seve- 
“ ral rouleaux of gold, which he placed before me. ‘Col,’ 
“ said he, ‘ I know you are a man of honor, and I am glad 
“ of the opportunity to verity what I say. Take what you 
“ wish, take all. I care not how much. Do not tell me 
“ what you take, as I know you wiU return it to the last 
“ franc whenever you can.’ ” 

The old lawyer threw down the book, and rising in agita- 
tion, passionately exclaimed : “ Good God ! and that man 
arrested for fraud ! for fraud ! to die in a common bar-room.” 
He lifted his clenched hand to heaven, as if registering a vow 
of vengeance. But a knock was heard at the door, and as 
he opened it all trace of recent excitement had vanished. 

“Have you seen him?” was his first exclamation to the 
man who entered. 

“ Yes, I have ; and here are the numbers,” handmg a small 
paper with figures on it. 

The lawyer turned to some memoranda and remarked: 
“ They are the same.” 

“How for Mr. Gray’s books — have you secured them?” 

“ I have the one you want here with me.” 

This book the lawyer carefully examined, and compared 
with the memorandum. 

# 

“How for the bank clerk — where is he ?” asked the lawyer. 
“ In an oyster-cellar round the corner,” leaving the office 
to bring him. 

The next morning, about noon, the same little old gentle- 
man walked into the counting-room of Mr. Chester, who 
received him with a cold, formal bow, and without inviting 
him to a seat. The law^-er, however, took a chair, as he 
quietly remarked in the blandest voice : “ Mr. Chester, 


232 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


when you are at leisure, I would crave a moment on busi- 
ness.” . . 

“ What is it, sir ?” said he. 

“ I wish the bonds which you received from that good 
man, Mr. Gray, who is now in his grave.” 

I never received one of those bonds. Colonel, from him, 
nor from any one else.” 

“ That is enough. It is all I wanted to know,” replied the 
old lawyer, in the same bland tone. “ You will now have to 
meet the consequences.” 

“ What consequences. Colonel ?” 

“ The charge of larceny, of theft,” and the words came 
hissing, rasping, scathing from his old lips. 

Chester turned pale. 

“ Yes, you sold them, sir ; and I have all the evidence 
which will send you to the penitentiary. Mr. Gray is now 
dead, and no witness can testify your ever receiving them 
from him. You cannot prove how you obtained them, but I 
can prove that you sold them, along with your denial that 
you ever had them.” 

Mr. Chester sank into a chair, with the sweat standing on 
his brow. “ That is a serious charge.” 

“ It is a serious crime, coupled as it is with the moral guilt 
of the murder of that good man, that generous friend whom 
you have betrayed.” 

“ But what can I do now ?” said the merchant. 

“ Redeem the bonds, and let me have them in two days.” 

“ I do not know where they are.” 

“ Where you sold them,” said the lawyer, rising and walk- 
ing to the door. “ Remember, they must be forthcoming in 
forty-eight hours.” 

Mr. Chester, humbled to the dust, approached the old man 


THE METROPOLITES. 


233 


extending liis hand for a parting salutation. “ No, sir, no, 
sir,” cried the lawyer, drawing up to his full height with 
dignity and indignation, while his fine dark eye flashed Arc. 
‘‘ 3ome gentlemen may avoid me to whom I have been a 
beneflxctor ; but in these arms one of the bravest of American 
generals, a hero, died on the field of battle, and they shall 
never be grasped by tlm hand of a felon.” He raised his 
warning finger, and slowly walked away as he uttered : 
“ Remember !” 

Wliat ensued may be inferred from the following leader in 
the “ Sunday Retrospect :” 

“ We had supposed the drama of the bonds embezzled had 
closed appro] )riately with poetic justice in the sudden and 
miserable death of Mr. Gray. A sequel, however, has been 
furnished. Mr. Chester has confessed that he received them. 
It was a question with him of payment or of the peniten- 
tiary. After robbing his friend and benefactor, after bring- 
ing disaster on his affairs, destruction on his family, and 
death to Mr. Gray, he has been compelled to acknowledge 
himself the culprit, with Mr. Gray the victun of his crimes. 
It would be a melancholy satisfaction to know confession 
and restitution were effected by the compunctions of con- 
science. But unfortunately it has not even that extenuation. 
It was only under a threat of prosecution for larceny, and the 
certain conviction to follow, for the proof was conclusive of 
his selling the securities, which compelled h im to disgorge 
his stolen plunder. 

“ Ten days ago the papers extolled this same Chester as 
‘ the honorable man, the highly respectable Mr. Chester, one 
of the purest and best men of the age, and an honor to any 
country.’ He had better leave soon for parts unknown. 
These regions must be uncongenial to his fine sense of honor. 


234 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


of friendship, of common honesty. Had he not better retire 
from business to escape contamination ? 

“ It was only yesterday the mortal remains of Mrs. Gray 
were borne down Broadway to her last resting-place, by the 
side of her late husband, to whom she was married four or 
five years ago. She has left a little infant daughter a few 
months old. Will the honorable -Mr. Chester, the highly 
respectable Mr. Chester, the purest and best of men, Mr. 
Cliester, think of all this when rejoicing over his escape from 
the tonsorial operation of having one-half his head shaved at 
Sing Sing.” 

On Monday morning all the daily papers copied the above 
from the “ Retrospect,” with comments on the subject in 
both their editorial columns and money articles. The hard 
fate of Mr. Gray and his family was deplored for a few days, 
to be then forgotten as a matter of no further interest. 
Chester withdrew from business into private obscurity. The 
little child was taken by a spinster lady, the step-sister of its 
mother. 

When Mrs. Yandorp was appealed to on behalf of her 
cousin, Mr. Gray, who was her nearest relative- then living, 
she refused all aid in his embarrassment. She even declared 
he might rot in jail before she would extend a helping hand. 
The claims of the infant upon her compassion were also 
unheeded. It was brought to her in order to affect her sym- 
pathy. But the strong resemblance to its mother only 
served to create additional repugnance, if not the most 
marked hatred, to the innocent, unconscious little one. 

Yet her feelings were too strong to be lasting. After Mr. 
Gray was in his grave, old and fond memories came back 
upon her. She would then have given all to relieve his dis- 
tress, as sweet remembrances of former love revived in all 


THE METROPOLITES. 


235 


their tenderness. But she still disliked the infant. Remorse 
was meting out punishment to her for bad and wicked feel- 
ings to Mr. Gray. But stiU she offered no atonement towards 
the child. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

At this point the researches of Charles Xevil into the his- 
tory of Lionel Gray ended. He had no further interest in 
the fate of the infant Emma. Indeed he might have forgot- 
ten she ever existed, had he not accidentally met her on a 
visit, one evening some time after this, to his mother and sis- 
ter. Her beautiful countenance, with features tinged by some 
slight sadness, induced him, while unobserved, to notice the 
interesting little lady. His sister afterwards spoke of her in 
high terms of commendation, while his mother deplored her 
hard lot, as she remembered well Emma’s parents. 

But it is to other scenes and to other persons our narrative 
must turn for better information concerning the early years 
of her life. Miss Lucinda Tantis, the step-sister of her mo- 
ther, was residing in New Jersey when she learned the 
death of Mr. Gray. Miss Lucinda was not a beauty, and 
had relinquished all aspirations or hopes of entering into the 
bonds or bliss of wedlock. She was without fortune, but 
with the assistance of a few hundred dollars her brother an- 
nually remitted, she was enabled to live comfortably. Her 
only amusement and occupation were working for Dorcas 
and missionary societies, whereby her handiwork was dis- 
tributed over the four quarters of the globe. Miss Lucinda 
cared but little where her work went, as she had full com- 


236 


THE METROPOLITES. 


pensation for her time and trouble in the pleasant little re- 
unions, where the mutual exchange of feminine opinions and 
information went hand in hand witli the clothing and conver- 
sion of the heathen. She had no opinions of her own, nor 
was she ever known to repeat the observations of others. 
She spoke but seldom, and what she said was nothing of im- 
portance, if it were not silly. Although supposed to have 
plenty of sense from her unobtrusive, unofFensive conduct, 
yet her wmrds were not w^ords of much wisdom, nor of much 
learning, nor much of anything. 

When she heard of the arrival of her brother James from 
the East Indies, she went over to New York to meet him. 
He had returned from a successful voyage, with the proceeds 
well secured ; and with no small ambition to make a figure 
in the metropolis. Mr. Tantis was decidedly liberal in his 
expenditures — when in funds. He therefore proposed to his 
sister to come and live with him in the city. An opportunity 
offered of purchasing an excellent house, already furnished, 
cheap for cash. Thus they became settled in a new part of 
the city, which is now an attractive street, near to the most 
fashionable avenue. 

Mr. Tantis read in the morning papers the editorial com- 
ments on the base conduct of Mr. Chester, and he remem- 
bered Mrs. Gray w.as his step-sister, whom he had once seen. 
But as it would be a good introduction into society as her 
.brother, and might even bring him some pleasant notoriety, 
he at once went into deep mourning in his aflliction for this 
near and dear relative. He also compelled his sister to bring 
the little infiint home, sorely against the spinster’s will, as it 
interfered with her benevolent operations in the clothing and 
conversion of the heathen. 

He had some intentions of administering on the estate of 


THE METROPOLITES. 


287 


Mr. Gray, but was forestalled in that purpose. One of the 
creditors was selected for the trust, who performed his duty 
so energetically that the property of the deceased paid all 
the debts, and left a balance of exactly forty-six dollars and 
' thirty-six cents for the young heiress in her cradle. • All the 
claimants against Mr. Gray declared the Administrator was 
an honest, straightforward man of business, while the balance 
of forty-six dollars and thirty-six cents was not a sufficient in- 
ducement for any learned counsel to show a shameful abuse 
of confidence and a rapacious haste to pay. off the debts, 
without any regard for the interests of the helpless orphan. 

Mr. Tantis, as guardian of Emma, was formally waited on 
by the honest, straightforward administrator, who paid over 
the forty-six dollars and thirty-six cents, wdthout any ques- 
tions asked of the India merchant for an exhibit of a legal 
authority to receive the amount. The honest, straightfor- 
ward man also transmitted in several dray-carts a quantity 
of trunks and chests, the remaining effects of the late Mr. 
Gray, which were duly consigned to the garret until further 
required. 

Mr. Tantis was launched under these fiivorable auspices 
into his native element, the business ocean of Wall street. 
Coming from the East, where he was supposed to have 
amassed a large fortune, he was complimented on his wealth 
and on those superior attainments only acquired in the 
Celestial Empire. But it does not follow' all are wise men 
who come from the East. Mr. Tantis w^as unlucky. And his 
folly w'as the cause. He met various fortune in his business 
operations. Sometimes he was successful. And sometimes 
he was at low ebb, as on the day he was first described seated 
among the falling leaves in the Washington Parade Ground. 
Again his stars w'ould prove more auspicious, enabling him to 


238 


THE METROPOLITES. 


hold forth once more in Delmonico’s bar-room on his infalli- 
ble sagacity in speculations. 

Miss Emma passed the first years of her childhood in a 
monotonous existence, without any one to care for her in par- 
ticular, and without having any one to whom she was much 
attached. "WTien ten years of age she discovered that neither 
her Aunt Lucinda nor her Uncle James had much good sense. 
This was an important discovery. She thought the clergy- 
man at whose church she was a constant attendant must be a 
much greater person, and consequently his wife must also be 
a superior woman. She knew that kind lady ; she soon 
began to look up to her, and finally to believe no one her 
equal in the whole world. But yet Emma had many weary, 
weary hours and days. She was without relations. She had 
none to cling to, and she became sensible she was alone in 
the world. These thoughts were very distressing whenever 
she gave way to them. But in time, with her habits of self- 
control, the kind advice of the good lady, and the consola- 
tion her religious instruction afibrded, she became reconciled 
to her lot, and ceased repining at fate. 

On the afternoon when Charles J^evil observed her inter- 
esting countenance with attention, she returned home before 
dark. Her Aunt Lucinda was ill and bed-ridden ; she had 
to take tea alone in silence. Her uncle seldom came up town 
until late, and at an early hour she retired to her cheerful, 
comfortable room in the third story, to read or to divert her 
mind from sad thoughts. 

The servants were in the kitchen in the basement, where 
they felt themselves independent of all interference for the 
remainder of the evening, with their mistress too much of an 
invalid to molest them, and Miss Emma too inoffensive ever 
to be in their way. The laundry woman came in vuth her 


THE METROPOLITES. 


239 


basket, which she placed on the floor, while she took a seat, 
waiting for one of the servant gii'ls to inform Miss Lucinda 
of her arrival. 

“ You are late to-night,” said one of the Abigails to the 
German woman with the basket. 

“ Yes, rather late,” was the meek reply of the woman, who 
was past middle age, but with a fresh, mild, and prepossess- 
ing countenance. Her flaxen hair was slightly turning grey, 
as indicated by a few locks seen under her old straw bonnet. 
Her shoulders were covered with a faded but thick warm 
shawl. She had on stout shoes over coarse woollen stockings. 
"But her dress was neat, scrupulously clean, and her whole 
appearance very favorable. 

“ I wish Miss Lucinda would come,” said she, at last, as a 
gentle hint to the girls to apprise her. 

“ Indeed you will not see Miss Lucinda to-night, if that is 
what you are waiting for,” was the surly answer. 

“ Miss Lucinda told me when you come, to send you to her 
room,” said the other, without the least compunction for the 
falsehood. 

“ She is sick and in bed,” added the first of these kitchen 
maidens. 

The laundress seized her basket, requesting them to show 
her the way. 

“ You may find it for yourself. Who was your nigger last 
year ? Hot me, I tell you,” was the pert reply from one of 
them, with a toss of her head. 

The German woman stood for a moment looking at them in 
surprise, and then asked which way she had to go. 

“This is the vay, the vay,” one of them exclaimed, throw- 
ing open a door at the foot of a dark staircase, as she mocked 
the pronunciation of the laundress. 


240 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


The woman ascended the stairs in fear and trem- 
bling; for, like all the lower orders of her nation, she was 
extremely superstitious. The legends of the apparitions of 
the rivers and forests of the Rhijie, of the old castles, and 
Ilartz mountains, were as much a part of her creed as the 
Augsburg Confession of Faith. She was not, however, illite- 
rate, having learned reading and Avriting in English as well 
as in her own language. Xor.was she a common washer- 
woman, but a clear-starcher whom ladies employed upon 
their finer articles of toilet, and with whom she was a great 
favorite for her skill as well as for her honesty and punctu- 
ality. Miss Lucinda did not often require her services, and 
therefore she was as yet unacquainted in the house beyond the 
kitchen, where Emma had seen her enter sometimes in passing 
the parlor windows, and was told Avho she Avas by her aunt. 

Step by step did the laundress slowly ascend, and, by the 
faint glimmer of gas-light in the hall, she essayed the next 
flight. Before reaching the landing she had forgotten, in her 
fright, how far she had come, but she groped her way onward 
and upward, hoping soon to be relieved from darkness. When 
on the third floor, a half-open door roA^ealed a light which sent 
a thrill through her frame, her heart and pulse beating quick 
with that supernatural terror which comes over persons dread- 
ing an apparition. Her first glance within the apartment 
caused her to start back in mortal fear ; her eyes almost shot 
from her head ; she could feel her hair rising on end under 
her bonnet. Spell-bound, she stood cold as a statue, A\Lile 
her limbs seemed to tremble, and a frozen, clammy sweat 
gathered on her forehead. 

“ Come in, Rosey,” said a sweet voice from the room. 

“ It’s her ; it speaks, it speaks,” ejaculated the terrified 
woman through her chattering teeth. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


241 


“ Come in, Rosey,” repeated tlie same musical voice. The 
woman would have fled in horror, but her limbs refused to 
obey her will, and as the seductive summons for the tliird 
time sounded on her ear, she felt herself moving forward to 
the object without any self-volition. She knew it was cer- 
tain death to disobey the invocation of a spectre ; but it 
seemed as though something more irresistible brought her 
into the presence. 

Emma had skt down befo*re a small table, over which hung 
a gas burner with an ornamental paper-shade. The light 
fell strong upon the page she was reading, with her head rest- 
ing on one hand, as she sat facing the door when the clear- 
starcher first looked in. 

The woman stood pale and trembling. “ What is the mat- 
ter ; you seem frightened?” asked Emma, looking up with 
large dark eyes. 

Rosey sank into a chair, but was still incapable of speech. 
With a great effort, however, in which she tried to sum- 
mon her knowledge of English words that had escaped her 
memory, in her agitation she exclaimed, at last, in a low tone : 

What is your name ?” 

“ Emma.” 

The woman started again in fright as she asked : “ What 
more?” . 

“Emma Gray.” 

With the same steady gaze the woman kept her eyes rigidly 
fixed for a long time, and then slowly exclaimed : “ She died 
twenty years ago.” 

“ That was my mother.” 

“No, it was you.” 

“ I was then only born, Rosey.” 

“ No, the baby died ; so they told me.” 

11 


142 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ That is the mistake. Did you know my mother 

“ I was with you when the baby was bom.” 

“ With my mother when I was born ?” 

“Yes,” answered the woman, thoughtfully. “Then the 
baby did not die after all ?” Hereupon she burst into a 
flood of tears which swept away all the spectral illusions 
from her mind. 

“ I lived with your mother, your fkther, for many, many 
years,” she continued, wiping away her thick-falling tears, 
“ and I thought you were dead. See, here is a picture of 
your mother I keep in my bosom for ever,” drawing out a 
miniature, with a small gold chain attached. 

Emma gazed long on the precious relic of her sainted pa- 
rent, in which she discovered a striking resemblance to her- 
self. It was, moreover, with great reluctance she handed it 
back into the coarse hands of the laundress, who deposited 
it with great care in the folds of her plain dress. 

“ But, Rosey, my mother died only a few months after I 
was born ; so they all tell me. Where were you then ?” 

“ I was in the country,” answered the woman, once more 
giving way to a fit of sobbing and tears. When she had re- 
covered her coijiposure and remained silent for a few mo- 
ments, she remarked : 

“ I want to love you, Miss Emma ; to be your mother ; to 
work for you ; to nurse you, if you are sick ; to make you 
happy ; to tell you of your dear father, he was such a gentle- 
man ; and }'our mother, such a good, kind lady.” Here she 
took Emma’s hand to kiss it and press it to her bosom. 

The old shawl had fallen fi-om her shoulders in her excite- 
ment, which enabled the young lady to observe the cleanly 
neatness of her apparel. She had also removed the dilapi- 
dated straw bonnet, to arrange her flaxen hair, that had come 


THE METROPOLITES. 


243 


down partly over her face in the fright. The clear-starcher, 
thus relieved of these exterior habiliments, presented a more 
cheerful appearance. The cadaverous hue also on her cheek 
had given place to a milder tinge of color, and her excellent 
teeth, displayed in a faint smile, imparted to her mild counte- 
nance an amiable expression of great benevolence. Emma 
not only felt the kindness, but began to appreciate the fond 
creature’s good wishes and intentions. It was a relief to 
know there was one to love her ; one, too, who had loved her 
mother, and who still cherished her memory as a saint. It 
was a new and bright link between her and the past, between 
her and her parents, of whom she had no remembraTice. 

“ Yes, Rosey, I will love you. We will be the best of 
friends when you come to tell me about my mother and 
hither. I know she was kind to you, very kind, when you 
remember it after so many years.” 

“ And your father, too. He was so kind, so good to me. 
They treated me like their own child, and were like a father 
and mother to me. Then to think how your father died, and 
for what.” Here her feelings overpowered the afflicted wo- 
man, and her tears flowed fast, interrupting her words, until 
they were no longer intelligible. 

Emma watched her emotion in silence, while much aflected 
by sympathy for this former servant, who thus testified her 
devoted affection for her parents, long since in their graves. 
Rosey regained her self-control slowly after drying her tears, 
which evidently relieved her heart of the load of grief upon 
it, caused by these sad and mournful reminiscences. 

“ I will come soon again. Miss Emma,” gathering up her 
shawl on her shoulders, and adjusting her bonnet. “ I will 
come again. But to think how wicked I have been, not to 
be certain you were living ; not to be with you when you 


244 


THE METROPOLITES. 


were a baby. May your mother in heaven forgive me, for 1 
can never forgive myself!” The tears flowed again in streams 
from her eyes, as she again seized Emma’s hand to press the 
young lady to her bosom before she left the room. 

Not a day passed after this scene without some token of 
Kosey’s aflection for the orphan child. She would call to 
talk with Emma, to tell her of former times and scenes, or 
to ask questions of her about herself and her past history. 
She brought little presents which she believed would be ac- 
ceptable. The most luscious fruit to be fouifd in the markets 
and choice bouquets of flowers from conservatories were 
brought ; even the hot-houses supplied her with their large 
clusters of grapes at seasons when most acceptable. Gloves 
and other little articles of dress were added to the catalogue, 
until Emma became alarmed for the expense the kind soul 
was incurring for her pleasure. She could not refuse accepting 
Avhatever Rosey might bring, for she was powerless in the 
hands of this meek and humble woman, who somehow had, 
through her kindness and affection, begun to exercise an un- 
bounded control. 

When it became at last equally painful to accept or to 
refuse these proofs of affection, Emma determined in her per- 
plexity to consult, the clergyman, Mr. Chillinworth, for whom 
she had so much veneration and regard. This good man was 
of that class of ministers who attend strictly to their clerical 
duties, without any wish for notoriety and fame out of their 
appropriate sphere. He listened to her with much interest 
and attention as she related the first interview with Rosey, 
and the subsequent attachment to her. When Emma con- 
cluded her account, he took some time to consider how he 
should advise, as it was a matter falling strictly within the 
line of duty towards the orphan, who was one of his parish- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


245 


ioners, and finally told Emma to wait until he made some 
further inquiry, as well as reflected on the subject. 

Mr. Chillinworth had learned from Emma the number and 
street where Rosey lived. In order, therefore, to ascertain 
more about her, he called on a Lutheran minister, an ac- 
quaintance whom he had long known, having chaige of a 
congregation in that quarter of the city. Mr. Hildebrand 
received his brother divine with much pleasure, as they had 
not met lately. He was still further rejoiced when he found 
he could serve Mr. Chillinworth in his praiseworthy mission. 
He knew Rosana well ; had known her many years. “ Let 
me see,” said he, turning to a book of memoranda, ‘‘ I have 
known the good woman these fifteen years, when she first 
attended my church, where she has been a regular communi- 
cant ever since.” 

Mr. Hildebrand, like his visitor, in the discharge of his 
pastoral duties had watched carefully over his flock, and 
knew each of their little histories, their joys and their sor- 
rows, their troubles and their trials, to rejoice or sjmpathize 
with them as they severally required his congratulation or 
condolence. He considered the welfare of his people as a 
part of his own existence, and in his sohcitude for their hai> 
piness he knew and remembered all the important incidents 
of their lives. In his eyes, whether they were in the most 
humble or in a more exalted sphere, they were the same to 
him. They all alike needed his ministering care, which he 
gave alike to all. 

The laundress had never been married ; but it seemed for 
many years she had more than the cares of one family upon 
her hands. Both a brother and sister arrived from Emope, 
and both were married, with families of little children. Her 
brother was a musical professor, a genius, w’hose great talent 


246 


THE METROPOLITES. 


attracted notice when he was quite a boy in Germany. He 
subsequently wandered into Italy to perfect himself in the 
art or science. There he met a young woman from France, 
who was finishing her musical education, to appear on the lyric 
stage. In their love and folly they married. But his laborious 
habits, with systematic economy, enabled him to triumph 
over pecuniary embarrassments. In his affection for a 
younger sister, he' sent for her to come and live with him in 
the sunny South. 

This younger sister became attached to a Spanish student, 
sent to Italy to study the civil law under some celebrated 
professors. He married her, and was disinherited and dis- 
carded by his family for his disobedience, and for the unpar- 
donable sin of an alliance with a peasant girl. The young 
Spaniard had therefore to turn his accomplishments to ac- 
count, and forthwith commenced giving lessons in fencing, 
dancing, and in the English language. He also speculated in 
old pictures, in antique pottery, in curiosities extracted from 
Pompeii — or of recent manufacture. 

In their great desire to give Italy a fresh start in the right 
direction to liberty, the German professor and Spanish stu- 
dent found themselves in the midst of a revolution. Next 
they were arrested as conspirators, and escaped only on con- 
dition of immediately leaving the country. Sacrificing all 
their little property in order to raise funds for a ^'oyage to 
America, they landed in due time iu New York, poor, sick, 
heai t-broken, and in despair. 

The ever self-sacrificing elder sister, Rosana, received them 
all in her house as part of her family. She sent the children 
to school, and to the Sunday-school and church of Mr. Hilde- 
brand. Regularly were all their little heads seen inside of 
Rosey’s pew. She ministered not only to all their little 


THE METROPOLITES. 


247 


wants, but took good care their religious instruction sliould 
be equally well attended to. 

The professor and student in time were enabled to find 
employment, while the little Frencli wife was fortunjl'te 
enough to procure musical scholars for all her leisure time 
when she was not wanted on the stage in parts for which she 
was well fitted. The student became a sub-editor on a 
Spanish paper, intended for South American circulation, and 
was also engaged in some way as an artist at the theatres. 
All public and popular people have no time for domestic 
duties ; consequently poor Rosey had the burden of taking 
charge of the children while the parents were amusing an 
admiring and applauding crowd. Thus these Italian exiles 
were in a fair way of success, and even of moderate fortune, 
when a theatrical impresario from one of the South American 
cities came across their path, to make them the most seduc- 
tive offers. It is well known there is no taste in an Ameri- 
can audience ; no ear for music, no eye for the ballet, no 
admiration for the fine arts, no appreciation for excellence of 
any kind. All foreign artists will tell you so ; nor will any 
amount of money and applause, bouquets and benefits, induce 
one of them to swerve from the truth in private in this parti- 
cular, whatever they may say in public on the stage — when 
they are acting. The American atmosphere is not favorable 
to the development or enjoyment of those refinements of the 
highest civilization, those heavenly emanations of the soul in 
the soaring flights of artistic genius. The American atmo- 
sphere is not redolent of those sweet scents and palate titilla- 
tions which breathe of sour maccaroni, rancid oil, of grease 
and garlic, of kraut, spec, onions, and pickled eggs. With- 
out these, America never can be a country of art. 

Im[)ressed with these indignant considerations, and no less 


248 


THE METROPOLITES. 


infliieuced by a solid deposit, with a substantial guarantee 
against all loss, the suffering exiles left our inhospitable 
shoves for a more genial clime. Rosey remained once more 
alone in her house, to pursue her honest avocation, which she 
had done at all times without intermission. 'It was now 
many years since the exiles had departed, who, from all 
accounts, were successful beyond their most sanguine expec- 
tations. ^ 

Thus far was the minister able to instruct Mr. Chillinworth. 
But as to Rosey’s property or means of support the worthy 
preacher was not as well informed. < The clergyman, there- 
fore, appealed to the green-grocer, the butcher, and the 
baker, for more exact information as to her estimated commer- 
cial standing in the neighborhood.. From these he learned 
she was close, stingy, hard working, but excellent pay ; “ no 
doubt with lots of money, and good for any amount.” 

The worthy clergyman had fully explored all the sources 
of knowledge, to return well satisfied with his labors. A 
solitary woman in a foreign land, in the humblest walk of 
life, with a self-sacrificing spirit, with a heart open to every 
Christian virtue, and a hand ever willing to aid her fellow- 
creature, in humility, in peace with all, was paving her way 
in silence to heaven. K Emman> wished to reward a good 
woman on earth, she need only comply with her wishes ; nor 
need she fear ever to be guided by her counsel or example. 


THE METROPOLITES.' 


249 


CHAPTER XXTI. 

The human tide, for ever ebbing or flowing in or out of 
Xew York, is one of its great peculiarities. In this espe- 
cially it difiers from other cities where the population is more 
stationary, more settled and fixed. But in the metropolis 
of our commerce, its people have their annual migrations, 
not only to adjacent villas, but run over other States, extend- 
ing their flight to distant countries and other continents. 
Friends often part without more than the common salutation, 
to meet after many months have intervened, returning per- 
haps in opposite directions — from St. Petersburg or San 
Francisco, Italy or the Isthmus, Stockholm or Sandwich 
Islands, from Archangel or Australia. And they meet as 
they parted, without especial greeting, each supposing the 
^other remained while he was absent. 

Thus the metropolis makes all parts of the world tribu- 
tary. From every country the sources of its prosperity 
flow, to extend its limits, to enhance its wealth, to increase 
its population, to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. The 
vast ocean in sight, which sometimes sends its heaving bil- 
lows to break in the Bay, is not more restless, changing, 
surging, and in perpetual motion, than the stream of life in 
the busy streets of Xew York. Mutation seems to be the 
life-blood of its existence, with arteries extending to seas 
and shores the most remote, thus causing events in an 
opposite hemisphere to vibrate upon the pulsation at home, 
to afiect, and even influence domestic aflairs. 

The transition of scene, therefore, from the city in winter 
to the sunny climate of the tropics a few months subsequent, 
is but following the natural succession of incidents in the 
ever-shifting panorama. 

11 * 


250 


THE METROPOLITES. 


On that part of the coast washed by the waves of the Mex- 
ican Gulf, or Caribbean Sea, in which charts are imperfect, 
with territorial boundaries uncertain and ill-defined, lies a re- 
gion almost wholly unknown to commerce and geography. 
Here is to be found an extensive valley, hemmed in on all 
sides by the mountains, except on its ocean front. The op- 
posite distant headlands, hanging in beetling clifis over the 
sea, run inland in rugged heights, imtil uniting, they rise into 
a towering peak, once an active volcano, but now slumbering 
imder a thick covering of perpetual snows. 

From its sides flow down cold, crystal streams to fertilize 
the upper plain immediately at the base. From thence they 
rush over rocks, through deep ravines, and amid tangled, 
wild vines, to the middle plateau below, where a never-ceas- 
ing vernal climate prevails ; where the clouds, driven west- 
ward by the trad^winds of the tropics, strike these high- 
lands, and discharge their genial rains in daily show^ers upon 
the luxurious vegetation. 

The copious streams from the melting snows of the vol- 
can^ and from the humid sea-clouds lower down, pour their 
united waters over the precipitous crags in miniature cata- 
racts aud mountain cascades, in their way to the level 
savannah of the coast, imparting some coolness to the ever- 
burning heats of this last and lowest belt of land. The 
landscape is filled with striking objects in pleasing variety, 
indicative of wealth, an active population, and a watchful 
care in the culture of the soil. 

The fields of cotton, crimson in bloom or white in ripe- 
ness, the deep green of the dense sugar-cane, the Tyrian 
purple of the leaf and stem of the indigo plant, blend harmor 
niously with the graceful waving of the tall, slender rice- 
blades, as sun, breeze, or cloud throws its peculiar, bright or 


THE METROPOLITES. 


251 


sombre hue over them, bending like grain in harvest-time. 
The parochial church, with its dull, grey, massive, turreted 
walls, ivy-clad, with belfry inlnid with blue porcelain, 
shines in the sun, surrounded as it is with cedars of Leba- 
non draped in convolvulus vines, with their clustering, red, 
bell-shaped flowers. The pueblo of peon natives, with its 
fragile houses of cane, earthen floors, and high, thatched 
roofs close by, under the sheltering wing of the church, with 
its ministering priest, rests in quiet peace in a little forest 
of wide-spreading shade-trees, venerable for age, of gigantic 
growth. 

By the light-running, cool, rippling stream, the bright villa, 
with walls of dazzling white, embowered in groves of orange, 
lime, citron, and olive, with its marble foimtains and trel- 
lised roses, is seen near to the gardens or fields of the broad- 
leafed banana, growing among the cofiee-trees, blood-red 
with berries clinging to their bending branches ; and the long 
rows of pineapple vines, loaded with luscious fruit, near the 
thick wood, imperAnous to the rays of the sun, where the lowly 
cacao, the m any-branching guava, the graceful palm and 
tall cocoanut trees, drink up the heavy moisture from the 
wet ground. 

The stately granja^ the lofty pile of solid stone buildings 
where the rich products are stored, where the agents and 
ofiicers reside, where all business is done, rises upon its 
groined arches of solid masonry like some feudal castle of 
Gothic times, inclosed by a high, strong wall capable of 
resistance to all external attacks. 

Such are some of the striking objects everywhere upon the 
plains that rise one above the other ; affording as much dif- 
ference, from elevation, in climate as zones of latitude. The 
rush of water through the acequias^ those artificial channels 


252 


THE METROPOLITES. 


cut for irrigating, adds freshness to vegetation and vivacity 
to animal life. The birds of song and plumage are seen, 
from the deep green and red-winged parrot and the flamingo 
of many colors, to the honey-bee and golden humming-bird ; 
and the clear, melodious stave of the clarin^ the clarionet 
warbler, is heard, perhaps, in concert with the more familiar 
note of the dove, plover, meadow-lark, robin, or bobolink, 
and blue-bird in their southern migration. 

The wide-spreading dahlia tree, its trunk a foot in circum- 
ference, with its thousand flowers in bloom ; the graceful 
fundio^ large and trumpet-shaped ; the gua-huom-qui^ the 
wild cape jasmine, with its clustering stems of overpowering 
fragrance ; the drooping acia ; the climbing morning-glory ; 
and even the creeping verbena, afibrd their beauty and per- 
fume. ISTature has here lavished all her gifts in ministering 
to the senses, and in imparting an elastic buoyancy, an exhi- 
larating thrill to the spirit. Wherever the eye rests is 
beauty ; whatever is heard is full of harmony and music ; 
each breeze comes laden with grateful odors ; ripe fruits on 
all sides invite to luscious banquets ; cool winds, with lulling 
waters, bring refreshing sleep in the deep silence of the 
night. 

The rich hacienda of Santa Lucia de Acultepec yielded an 
immense revenue to its young proprietor. All the lands 
within this wide-spreading valley were his ; the agricultural 
crops, the fruits, the precious gums, the medicinal roots, the 
rare oils, the herds of hoofed animals, were his. Minerals 
and dye-woods, sulphur from the volcan^ saltpetre from the 
caves, even the snow from its crest of clouds afforded a princely 
• income. The sea, also, paid him a lordly tribute in the red 
coral, the protean sponge, the light iodine, in the sparkling 
pearl, and no less productive pearl-shells. It was said hg 


THE METROPOLITES. 


253 


exacted ransom or heavy seignioralty payments from the 
buccaneer, the slave-trader, and smuggler, who refitted and 
took shelter in the safe emenadas^ the roadsteads of his 
domain. 

He lived in a style commensurate with his wealth and 
power. On the middle plateau, several thousand feet above 
the level of the ocean, his villa was situated, on the brow of 
the shelving descent ^overlooking the plain below. The 
grounds were laid out with a tropical taste, faintly imitated 
in northern climes, in those extensive conservatories or crys- 
tal palaces designed for the development of all species of 
fruits and plants. The garden, some acres in extent, was 
terraced with low walls or steps of marble, leading to tlie 
successive landings. Statues, and jets, and fountains were 
abundant, and little circular temples of dazzling concrete, 
open on all sides, resting on slender white columns, with 
domes vermilion or shining blue, sheltered some rare work 
of art in bronze or stone in the centre within. Streams of 
water rippled over the paved courses prepared for them, to 
find their way to miniature lakes with mossy banks, or to the 
roots of the vegetation in the beds of earth. Long circular 
seats of stucco, painted with bright and varied hues, and 
high balustrades of the same material for trailing vines, con- 
tributed a lively, pleasing effect. Fruits of the tropics and 
of the temperate latitudes were here seen side by side, the 
mamey, along with the nectarine and peach ; the voluptuous 
chirimoya, and the most exquisite pear ; the tuna, the zapote, 
the apricot, and apple. The mango displayed -its yellow 
fruit in its umbrageous foliage ; the pomegranate its grateful 
perfume, the fig its purple ripeness, and even the strawberry 
renewed its blossoms and fruit throughout the year. 

Vines, and roses, and flowers, lent their beauty and sweet- 


254 


TUE METKOPOLITES. 


ness to the scene in a profusion and magnificence unknown in 
colder climes. The air was heavy with fragrance ; a cooling 
shade fell around and over all ; the heat was tempered with 
the spray of falling watc'rs ; the earth humid and fruitful 
from the little rivulets that ran in innumerable channels. 

The mansion, although only of one story, was of great 
extent, finished with much care, and filled with many gems 
and works of art. The floors were porcelain and marble, 
the ceilings for the most part paintings in fresco, and the 
high walls were covered with pictures in rich frames. The 
furniture was gilded, but light and cool. Some costly mats 
of the finest wool were laid near sofas for the feet to rest 
upon. Silken hammocks swung in the corridors for noonday 
repose. The vases, tables, pitchers, cups, and almost all 
other articles for food or drink, were of solid silver, some- 
times in exquisite chasing, sometimes plain. The baths were 
of variegated porcelain, inlaid. 

The barbaric and oriental splendor forming the basis of 
this sybarite style of living was not wanting in many of the 
more useful and convenient improvements of the age. Gas- 
pipes were to be seen throughout the establishment ; ice and 
snow brought from the distant volcan^ contributed their 
various uses for comfort, and a thousand little articles seen 
everywhere denoted a careful appropriation of all novel 
inventions w'herever found. 

Two gentlemen were seated at the breakfast table in the 
extensive comedor^ or dining-room, of this princely cottage, 
about noon. The various courses of meats, vegetables, and 
the dessert had been removed ; for it is only the absence of 
soup which distinguishes this meal from dinner. The de- 
licious fruits and light wines were now before them ; one 
helped himself to the crimson pomegranate, while the other 


THE METROPOLITES. 


255 


was cutting slices from the luscious chirimoya. They sat in 
silence at opposite sides of the table, but apparently ill at ease. 

One of them was in the prime of manhood, tall, rather 
slim, with dark hair, heavy but large, beautiful black eyes, 
regular, handsome features, a small, pretty mouth, and a slight- 
ly olive complexion. He was dressed in a suit of black of the 
prevailing fashion, with much attention to the lace frills and 
bosom of his linen. A profusion of gems was upon his hands 
and in his clothes. As he smiled he displayed his teeth, 
regular and white as sets of pearl. Much easy grace was in 
his unstudied manner, a noble daring in his self reliant look^ 
mixed slightly with a scornful levity and playful smile, deno- 
ting a man of the world who had played his part well. 

Yet he was not in a happy mood. He was the guest of the 
gentleman opposite. Still something had gone amiss. At 
length, toying with a cigar etta in the little silver brasero of 
coals on the table, he pushed over the vase to his companion. 
“ Will you not smoke, compadre said he. 

“ Thank you, I prefer the chirimoya a little longer.” 

“ Then, hombre^ my man, let me hear the sound of your 
voice, unless you are repeating your meridian prayers.” 

“ I think, Olivera,” he replied, laying down his fruit-knife, 
“ I think, on reflection, you will come into my views about 
the matter.” 

“ I think, Seiior Don Nicolas Sabina, I will never be com- 
promised in any affiiir in which is a woman.” 

“Yet you wish me to take charge of your hacienda of 
Santa Inez without any requital on your part.” 

“If half the profits be no consideration, Don Nicolas, 
what more do you want ? You are avaricious for money ; you 
know how to make it, and keep it. I want you to make some 
for me, and take the half.” 


256 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ It is a bargain, Seuor Marquez, if your excellency will 
join me in securing the possession of the lady.” 

“ I thought you cared only for an enormous fortune ; what 
good, then, would a lady be to you ?” 

“ What good, Seiior Marquez, is money without you can 
use it?” 

“Very true; but I thought your ambition was directed to 
fame, from your great work to be completed hereafter in 
Paris.” 

“ I wish this lady, however ; and by the holy virgin of Re- 
medies, I will have her !” answered Sabina, with a scowl, as 
he lit his cigaretta at the hrasero. 

Olivera shrugged his shoulders as he said : “ That is no 
affair of mine.” 

Mira! See here, Senor Marquez de las Cumbres; do you 
tell me you care nothing about the sex — that they are 
beneath your notice ?” 

“I love my mother and my little sisters, Don Nicolas; 
therefore I have a gveat respect for ladies.” 

“Then why do you not show them some attention ?” 

“ To aid you in this abduction would certainly be mani- 
festing marked attention,” said he, with a smile on his lip. 

“ Are you afraid, Senor Marquez ?” 

“ I never asked myself that question,” was the answer. 

“ I want this girl, and you want money for your gambling 
purposes in Europe. Now let us help each other, and you 
will not be the loser.” 

The conversation here dropped on the entrance of a ser- 
vant with small cups of strong coffee, made of the choice ber- 
ries selected from the topmost branches on the estate. 

Sabina was no longer the idle, listless loimger he seemed 
to be in New York. Here he was the keen man of business, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


257 


successful in every enterprise, daring and unscrupulous in tlie 
means. He was amassing a large fortune with which to 
figure some day in the capitals of Europe. K his northern 
associates thought him mean and stingy, here on his, broad 
estates he was known to be grasping and avaricious. But 
these were the smallest of his vices. Uncontrolled by the 
restraints of law, or by obedience to a superior, he gave way 
to the gratification of his unbridled, frantic, and fiendish pas- 
sions. Under the influence of any frenzy he knew no moral 
restraint. He was, moreover, incapable of fear as a madman. 

Fernando Miguel Olivera, Marquez de las Cumbres, was 
his guest. His estates lay contiguous to Sabina beyond the 
snow-capped volcan^ and extended to the shores of the South 
Sea. The hacienda of Santa Inez was not productive, 
although more extensive than the Santa Lucia ; but it 
possessed all the elements of ^ven greater wealth. The min- 
erals were more abundant; the woods richer in dyes and 
ornamental timber; the pearl fisheries more numerous, and 
each capable of a greater yield^; the crops would be equal, 
with the additional advantage of a soil and climate adapted 
to Sea Island cotton and cochineal. 

But Olivera living abroad, his hacienda was neglected 
and running fast to decay and ruin. At this time it was 
wholly unproductive. He was too much engaged in his 
favorite, absorbing pursuit to attend to his American estate. 
His' passion for gaming made him noted — even celebrated — 
in every capital on the Continent. He was famous from 
Oporto to Odessa, from Moscow to Paris, at every dis- 
tinguished watering-place wherever play was .permitted. 
Highly educated and accomplished, with great versatility 
of talent, an extensive acquaintance with men and aftairs, 
his family one of the oldest of the Spanish nobility, he was 


258 


THE METROPOLITES. 


cordially received iii the highest circles, and caressed in all. 
But he seemed indifferent to every pleasure or useful pursuit, 
to steal away to the gambling rooms, to calculate chances, 
and to run fearful hazards in attempting to break banks by 
betting against them. 

Pj-edictions were constantly made that each campaign 
would be his last ; but all proved untrue. Although his losses 
^rere heavy, still corresponding winnings counterbalanced 
ill-luck. He never spoke of success or failures, but gambled 
on until it was believed at last he had found some infallible 
secret by which he must prove fortunate in time. The extent 
of his wealth was unknown ; but it was understood the most 
generous actions were done by him with his money. He was 
not prodigal, yet open-handed, as he was true-hearted when- 
ever his feelings were enlisted. He was a man of tried 
courage and unquestioned honor. His indifference to ladies 
and avoidance of their society were proverbial. 

Sabina had formed a wrong estimate of his character, be- 
lieving him a desperate, dishonorable gambler, now destitute 
of funds to carry on his rash operations, and coming to 
Santa Inez to obtain supplies. He knew Olivera had not 
been in America for many years when they were boys 
together, although Sabina was by a few months only his ju- 
nior. Acting on the impression that the Marquez was bank- 
rupt or on the verge of insolvency, without funds to resume 
his speculations at the banks, he used every art in his power 
to prolong his visit at Santa Lucia, in the hope that despera- 
tion would induce him to close with his dishonorable proposal. 

Wlien the subject was first mentioned, the Marquez lis- 
tened, and Sabina thought approvingly. The details were 
explained and the name of the young lady given, with all the 
difiiculties stated. It was only after all the scheme was de- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


259 


veloped that the Marquez clecliued to join in its accomplish- 
ment. Ilis refusal, however, was not marked with any dis- 
approbation of the proposal, but only with the sbnple nega- 
tive which expressed so much, yet most politely, in the Casti- 
lian phrase, no est conveniente — it is not convenient. 

Sabina would not on his part entertain the proposition to 
take charge of the hacienda of Santa Inez until the ]Mar- 
quez should consent to aid him in the abduction. Hence 
Olivera was vexed. But Sabina did not despair, and in his 
headlong passion he believed the Marquez was waiting for 
more tempting terms. Perhaps the Marquez flattered him- 
self that Sabina would give up the proposal when he found it 
idle to hope for his assistance, and that, in his grasping sjnrit 
for wealth, he would take the control of the Santa Inez. 
Thus reasoning on both sides, the visit was prolonged, al- 
though the Marquez had now been a fortnight at the villa. 

'No society was found by the noblemen on the Hacienda. 
Sabina lived alone, with his household retinue of servants. 
It is true an extensive library was collected of choice 
French, with curious Latin and interesting Spanish works, 
iu which Olivera spent much of his time. He could liold no 
social intercourse with the agents and clerks on the estate. 
Even the administradores at the granjas were not deemed fit 
associates for the nobleman, although these men were edu- 
cated, and possessing much varied, valuable local informa- 
tion. But such are the prejudices of caste, that a Spanish 
gentleman cannot spend an hour in social equality with one 
below that rank, however worthy and interesting he may be. 

Yet the Spanish gentleman loves gossip. His long hours 
of idleness foster its growth. With almost all of them it is 
a passion. Now, when the Marquez travelled, he moved in 
a state befitting his rank and comfort. He had at least a 


260 


THE METROPOLITES. 


half-dozen of attendants in this rugged country, where all 
journeys are performed on horseback. He therefore had 
his arriero to take charge of his animals ; a mozo as a depu- 
ty-equerry, to help him ; a criado or steward for his moving 
household to assist the cook, and no less than two valets to 
wait upon his person, to minister to his wants. One of these 
valets, by name Domingo, had much of his confidence, or at 
least much of his attention ; for Domingo was everywhere, 
soon made himself known to everybody, and was imme- 
diately versed in all the local news. 

Domingo not only woi’e the cast off garments of the Mar- 
quez with peculiar grace, but tried his best to assume the 
manners and even imitate the expressions and gestures of 
his master. His obsequious bow, and the flourish with 
which he elevated his sombrero from his head, were very 
attractive, not only to the Caballeros on the hacienda, but 
had its magical effect on the senoras and other doncellas. 
He had a compliment for every don whom he met, and a 
word of flattery for every senorita. He ingratiated himself 
rapidly in their affections, and their unlimited confidence, 
with cakes and dulces^ soon followed. 

It was soon apparent in this smiling, charming valley all 
was not happiness and contentment. ^l amo^ that is to say, 
the proprietor, was hateful ; he was viewed in horror ; he 
was known to be in communication Avith evil spiiits, if not 
one of the number himself, which was not deemed impro- 
bable. This was no secret among them ; but whether it was 
or not, they believed el amo knew their opinion, and Avould 
knoAV it anyhow without their aid or revelation. 

Sabina was aware of their superstitious credulity, and had 
used every art to work upon their fears. He had mystified 
them with ventriloquism and magic-tricks of legerdemain. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


261 


chemistry, and other sciences, until in their ignorance they 
believed him more than mortal, and much worse. His own 
natural temper, when let loose in its fury among them, had 
contributed in addition to his studied artifices. The legends 
respecting his father, many of them true, and all partly 
founded on fact, gave him a fit pedigree, if scenes of \io- 
lence, rapine, plimder, and blood could be quartered on his 
family escutcheon. 


CHAPTER XXHI. 

Domjngo, the seiwant of the Marquez, did not find time 
hanging heavily on his hands. Ennui was not an affliction 
of his master, nor could the valet catch that fashionable in- 
fection in the second-hand suits that fell to him without qua- 
rantine. His own habits forbade idleness, or that which he 
would consider as such. Domingo did not intend to waste 
his sweetness on the desert air of the villa. Formed for 
society, which he made his proper element, he humbly ima- 
gined he dazzled, not only with his own resplendent fasci- 
nations, but also with the borrowed lustre of the Marquez, 
to adorn and enlighten all upon whom his splendor might 
fall. 

Domingo had a weakness for the softer sex, a longing after 
the charms of feminine converse, a leaning towards those 
gentler topics which formed the current staple of their inno- 
cent thoughts. Select reunions’ were especially a] (pointed for 
his delight ; sometimes more numerous gatherings were im- 
provised, where he would accidentally drop in to pass away 
a pleasant hour. One of these little tertuUas, or reunions, 


262 


THE METROPOLITES. 


happened on an afternoon, at the house of a merchant whose 
tienda supplied two granjas and their peons with all the com- 
foi-ts and superfluities of foreign commerce. The mother and 
a pretty daughter did the honors to the young wife of an 
administrador^ to two sisters and a niece of the cwm, a 
neighboring priest, to the daughters and aunt of an empleado^ 
a chief clerk, and a charming girl, said to he a niece of the 
escribano or notary. They met in a large, prettily furnished 
room, facing the huerta chica or garden of shrubbery and 
flowers, close up to the windows, and were busy with their 
needles when Don Domingo, as they were pleased to call 
him, honored them with his presence. 

Don Domingo bowed low on his entrance, while his som- 
brero in hand touched the vermilion paint on the broad, tiled 
floor. He regained his vertical position to gracefully em- 
brace in turn all the fair creatures then and there assembled, 
and as his chivalric arms encircled respectfully their fair 
forms with much ease and grace, he impressed a chaste salu- 
tation on the foreheads of the elder, and perhaps imprinted 
a little Avaimer touch of his lips to the blooming cheeks of 
those younger. Each one of the fair ones dropped into her 
seat as soon as her part of the performance was ended, to re- 
sume her needle-work. 

The gallant caballero helped himself to a cigaretta^ which 
he lighted at the brasero on the table, threw back his short 
cloak on his shoulders, laid down his sombrero^ and finally 
took a seat. The ladies felt themselves in the presence of 
nobility. The courtly gentleman complimented each of them 
in a feAV choice sentences, that elsewhere might have been 
deemed a little studied, and correspondingly stiflT and formal, 
but w'hich in this choice circle were viewed as the stately 
grandeur of style bordering on the sublime. He seized a 


THE METROPOLITES. 


263 


lute or haraba harp, and, after one or two touching preludes, 
played sweetly a sonata, then telling where he had first heard 
it performed by a fascinating beauty of Andalusia much re- 
sembling in features one present. With every little canzonet 
or other piece of music he had a similar word of flattery for 
some one. When he talked of painting, the matrons of the 
party found their sweet faces smiling on canvas in oils, in 
famous galleries, resplendent with silks and gems, rejoicing 
in the names of celebrated saints. 

It would have been impossible for them to enjoy such 
seraphic happiness in silence. Their hearts were overflow- 
ing in the natural desire to contribute a part to this pleasing 
entertainment. But what could they say interesting and 
attractive to the Senor Hidalgo before them ? Wealth and 
fashion were worlds unknown ; titles and rank were beyond 
the range of their sphere. They knew nothing, no one to 
talk of, unless it might be the patron of Santa Lucia, while 
of him they could not talk as of a mortal. He was some- 
thing superhuman, at the sound of whose name the blood 
ran cold through the veins, as always happens when a spirit 
is present. 

But the Caballero wished them to talk of the Don, and thus 
encouraged, after each invoking the protection of her patron 
saint, they ventured to tell of the maldito^ the accursed. 
Worse than his father, he had not even as a boy been bap- 
tized. He never took his first communion, nor solicited 
masses for his father, who needed them for his deadly sins. 
He was not seen inside of a church in his life, while every’ 
crucifix in the villa was broken or thrown do™ ! When he 
met the Dios borne by the cnras in procession, to administer 
the last sacrament to a dying sinner, he neither kneeled 
down, nor even uncovered. He was sold body and soul to 


264 


THE MBTROPOLITES. 


an evil demon, who would not permit him to confess or bow 
before the Virgin. 

When he grew up he was worse, mucho pejor — much worse. 
Then he could invoke demonios^ who came, and talked, and 
howled ; animals would speak, and birds sing songs full of 
blasphemy. He went at night to the Laguna^ where the ser- 
pent with wings has its cave, to talk to it and feed it with 
fruit and wine. Was he not there, and his head a ball of 
fire? Como no? Why not? Is he not burning now like 
sulphur, until he lights candles with his fingers ? Como no ? 
Why not ? Madre de Dios^ mother of God, save us ! He 
can make lightning. Co7no 7%o f The villa is haunted, and 
evil spirits yell and scream, and cry all night long, around it. 
Como no f I-e-siis help us ! 

“ But she came at last to live with him, the hruha—\hQ 
witch. Como no? I-e-sus / May the espiritu santo wsLich 
over us ! Yes, the bruha herself, the woman of the demo- 
niOy to whom he had sold himself for the vial of green 
blood, the charm to call spirits. She came to live in the de- 
serted convent of El Retiro^ and to make him hate the good 
more and more. She was in a rage, and you could hear her 
screams at the Barranca Ancha. Como no ? She was young 
and beautiful, lovely as the Virgin of Ocotlan, large eyes of 
blue, with golden hair ; but she could not talk in our idioma. 
She mourned, and wept, and tore her tresses, until Don Ni- 
colas promised all, and drank some of the green blood as an 
oath. Como no ? 

“Yes, she was beautiful, most lovely ; beauti- 

ful as the madre deJDios^ the Virgin of Ocotlan. Como no ? 
He promised her all, everything. I-e-sus/ Then the rains 
failed, as the bruha wished. Tliere was no fruit for the 
children, no maiz to eat, no roses for the images of the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


265 


saints at fiestas and ftinciones — at festivals and celebrations. 
Como no ? The fowls died, the pigeons flew away. Taran- 
tulas as large as your hand, the big, black, hairy, venomous 
spiders, ran on the walls and corners ; millipedes — the centi- 
pedes, a foot long, were thick upon the floor ; alicranes — 
scorpions, dropped from the roofs into your shoes, and 
clothes, and bosom, and hair. Como no ? 

“ Children died for want of food, with no sweet flowers 
for grave-pillows at their little heads, for garlands over their 
innocent bodies, for spiral wreaths round their little legs and 
feet at their burial. Como no f Men and women died, too, 
for the want of herbs and roots as remedios. The images of 
the saints wept in the chapels ; the madre de Dios sliel tears 
oh the altar. I-e-sus ! Como no f 

“ Then the hruha^ with her large eyes of blue and golden 
hair, beautiful as the Virgin of Ocotlan, laughed aloud, she 
screamed with delight ; talked the idioma like an evangelista. 
Como no f Don Mcolas sent over the high cumhre beyond 
the volcan to the pueblo of Tehuan-cingo for some servants 
for her. They did not know over there, where they are all 
infelices^ poor people, that this lady was a bruha. Como 
no? Dolores came, and she is a good girl ; the cura told her 
to come to wait upon the bruha. Poor Lulu was enchanted 
by the witch before she could say either am or credo ; then 
it was too late. When poor Lulu heard all, she could not 
leave the brulia^ because she was under magic. Como no ? 

“But 'hvXvi., pohxicita — ^poor little thing, would not believe 
she dealt in necromancy. So she gave her a cross to try her, 
but all she could do the bruha would not kneel down before 
it. I-e-sus ! Como no f Then Lulu, pobracita., supposing 
that the cross was not rich enough, being only of black ebano 
^yood — of ebony, gave her an image of the madre y niho — 

12 


266 


THE METROPOLITES. 


mother and child. But no. She would not worship that. 
Lulu, poor thing, prayed, and wept, and fasted all night for 
the soul of the perdida — the lost one. When the hruha was 
asleep. Lulu stole quietly to the bed and kissed her to know 
if she Avere awake, and then softly put the cross round her 
neck to keep away evil spirits. Como no? Madre de 
Dios ! 

“ When the lady awoke in the morning, and found the cross 
on her 'bosom, the tears came in her eyes as she kissed Lulu, 
and said she was a good child. She then promised to wear 
it for the sake of Lulu. Como no ? Since then we haA^e 
j)lenty of I’ains, with fruit and corn, flowers and roses. 
Como no? Poor Lulu went home when her father was ill, 
and sent her sister Merced, who is now at El Retiro. Conm 
no 

This Avas the substance of the narrative which the ladies 
poured into the listening ear of the caballero. Sometimes 
speaking in duet or trios, or in full chorus, sometimes in solo, 
but always in accord as to the vei*acious recital, well inter- 
larded with expletives, exclamations, and action, in that 
beautiful Castilian language in which every vowel is sounded 
distinctly. Poor Domingo felt at times Avhen they all came 
at him in full cry as if he were the accursed Don Nicolas, or 
the other respectable old gentleman who furnished from his 
apothecary’s shop that precious green liquid. He sometimes 
compared himself to Don Ricardo in a drama called 
Eduardo, or the Hunchback, said to be borrowed from 
English history, where a duke kills two little princes in a 
high tower, as he has not the strength in a Avithered arm to 
throAV them over the battlements. A Avhole graveyard of 
ghosts visits Don Ricardo, sleeping in his tent on the eve of 
a battle, and give him some spiritual manifestations, one 


THE METROPOLITES. 


267 


after the other, in which curses are served up fresh and hot 
from the brimstone laboratory. Domingo had learned the 
facts were true as related by William Shakspeare the histo- 
rian. Then again, the hidalgo figured to himself the feelings 
of Don Juan Tenorio in the play where a bevy of frail beau- 
ties from the land of spirits preach to him a sermon on some 
of their mutual follies. 

Domingo thanked the ladies for their interesting informa- 
tion, professing a full concurrence in their opinions of the 
maldito Don Nicolas, promising not to repeat what every- 
body kept as a profound secret. He soon took leave with his 
usual urbanity and courteous politeness, to learn further of 
this recluse at the deserted convent of El Retiro. 

« The next day the elegant and polished Domingo found 
his way to one of the large villages of peons, called the 
pueblo of Huepan. He only stopped apparently to eat a 
chirimoya^ while his mozo watered the horses at a neighboring 
brook. He took a seat on a hewn block of stone, in front of 
the Juzgado^ as it was called, the cahildo or municipal 
house, under the pleasant shade of a wide-spreading amates, 
a species of the magnolia tree that grew on the plaza. The 
Jiizgado was a one-story, one-room building of adobe, 
with a palm-thatched roof, without a floor or much rude fur- 
niture. The alcaldes, judges, syndics, and even topilles, were 
within in full council. Two or three alcaldes from neighbor- 
ing pueblos were also in attendance ; for Huepan was the 
cahacera — the head pueblo, which selected the magistrates 
for several smaller suburban communities ; while the cahacera 
elected its own by the free and enlightened suffrages of its 
solid men. 

The Caballero could hear the discussion in council, which 
related to the revenue derived from tolls established at tlio 


268 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ford; and it being a question of finance, the current coin, 
tlacos, quartillas, medios, reales, and pesetas, were the words 
most often repeated. The tlaco being the only copper coin, 
was the initial rate by which the others were adjusted ; the 
quartilla was a silver quarter of a real ; a medio, the one-half 
of the same, while the real itself was the eighth of a dollar, 
and a peseta a double real, all of which silver pieces find 
their way over the world in commerce. It struck the 
hidalgo’s capacious intellect that funds were low in the exche- 
quer of the cabacera^ for the alcalde put a decided veto on 
an appropriation for more musical instruments wanted by the 
barefooted community on the other side of the river. Now a 
band is indispensable for religious processions or for other 
festivities, and is an institution of prime necessity and respee- 
tability. TTithoutit, in the estimation of natives a pueblo is a 
very poor affiiir, soon to degenerate into a mean hamlet, a 
congregacion or comunidad. The cahacera was famous for 
its extensive orchestra, consisting of three violins, a guitar- 
harp, a triangle, and a big drum. 

The barefooted magistrate from the disappointed pueblo 
left the council in high displeasure, when the sitting dissolved. 
On coming out he recognised Domingo as an acquaintance to 
whom he could express his indignation, while the other coun- 
sellors dispersed to their various homes. 

The alcalde extended his vwath to a circle large enough to 
embrace all olficials wherever flourishing. In giving vent to 
his feelings he found great relief to his mind. The diplomatic 
Don Domingo gradually brought him to say something of 
Don Nicolas in strict confidence. But the alcalde was cau- 
tious. He would not commit himself, as he had some 
reminiscences fresh in his memory which taught him the dan- 
ger of exciting the vengeance of that dreaded individual. The 


THE ]METROPOLITES. 


269 


Macchiavellian valet, however, with soothing speeches, prettily 
turned compliments, and seductive flattery, wormed himself 
into the coarse cotton-shirted bosom of the peon magistrate. 

It was no great risk in this official to tell what was well 
known, and to that extent he could go. He confirmed all the 
ladies said the day before, and went further into details. 
That Don Nicolas was a wizard, a maldito^ dealing with evil 
spirits, no one would deny. “ Todo d everybody knew 

it. But he kept the demonios to himself, which did not trou- 
ble Jieles^ true believers, before the hi'uha came to live at the 
deserted convent of El Retiro. But then he had more 
power over evil spirits. He sold himself body and soul to 
her, for she was beautiful, more beautiful than the Virgin of 
Ocotlan. She came one night, no one knew where from: 
out of the sulphur of the volcan, or out of the deep abyss 
behind the convent, where the black water roars as it falls 
over the cataracts in the inaccessible Canada of Esquiletos, or 
out of the sea, where that fiend, that familiar of Don Nicolas, 
the Cabeza Negra^ the Black Head found her. This compli- 
mentary title was the common appellation of the sabre-cut sail- 
ing master of the yacht Chula. 

“ When the bruha came, Don Nicolas spent most of his time 
up there, on the side of the mountain at the convent with the 
deep Canada behind it, and Barranca Ancha — the broad 
Barranca in front. But then he became the maldito^ the 
accursed. Then he vented his rage on all who offended him. 
A carbonero was smothered by demons in his coal-pit among 
the pine trees — coaio no f A nulpero — a corn-planting peon, 
was pushed from a rock and killed, conio no f A vaquero^ a 
herdsman, was attacked by a bull in which the evil spirit 
entered and gored him to death — como no f 

“ When the cotton was in blossom, the gmano8 — the army 


270 


THE METROPOLITES. 


worms destroyed half of it; a violent Norther beat down the 
other part, and the rain-storm spoilt it. The same Norte 
l^rostrated the banana stocks, and all the fruit was gone — 
como no? The caterpillars covered the fig and olive trees, 
because there was no rain — como no f The chapulin—XhQ 
grass-hopper locusts- came in clouds to darken the sun, and 
eat up all the maiz and sugar-cane — como no f He was mad 
at the peons of Ochitlan, and sent at night an aguacero to 
burst over the pueblo, to wash aAvay the houses, orange and 
citron trees, and corals, to drown the men, women and chil- 
dren, carried down the valley in the flood in the dark, crying 
for help — como no f An cirroyo seco, a dry river bed, made 
by the agimcero, full of large stones, gravel and sand, and a 
wooden cross, now are at the place where the plaza of the old 
pueblo was. Como no f 

“ Then the maldito was satisfied ; the people poor and 
starved; half the children in their little graves; all the 
mothers in mourning. The Cabeza Negra grinned from ear 
to ear ; the cut in his cheek opened when he laughed ; his 
blind eye sparkled like a piece of burning charcoal ; his ear- 
rings were red-hot. Then they went to sea, only the two, 
no more, to dig up buried treasure on the beach, marked by 
the bleaclied bones of the negro killed by the Cabeza at the 
spot, for his espiritii^ to sit all night long and watch the 
cofre^ till they come for it — como no P Now they have come 
back. What next ?” 

Don Domingo listened with amazement to this recital. 
He unplicitly believed all the supernatural part of the 
story ; for his early education, carefully attended to in this 
particular, taught him to listen to such revelations with 
unbounded reverence. His venerable mamma was in his youth 
a lavandera — a washerwoman of Balboa, who could always 


THE METROPOLITES. 


271 


keep him from blowing soap bubbled with a pipe, when she 
or some- of her neighbors narrated tilings marvellous. His 
lower jaw fell, as the alcalde proceeded ; his fierce moustache 
lost its curl ; his sword-hilt came in contact with the ground, 
and. his shoulders inclined downward. In a word, the brave 
hidalgo felt that in his aspirations after exalted society of 
rank, and even nobility, he had reached a point above mor- 
tals, where he was in daily association with disembodied 
spirits to be damned at last. How did he know but Don 
Nicolas, like his favorite Don Juan in the play, would in 
one of his freaks ask all the statuary at the villa to step out 
to take a cup of chocolate ? Only think of the tramp, tramp 
of their stone feet over the porcelain floors; their marble 
arms cracking when extended to the fi-agile cup, and the 
cup c lushing in the cold grasp of chiselled petrifaction. 
A shivering thrill ran through his veins. He was an injured 
fellow. The Marquez had Avronged him in this perilous 
journey. He would have double wages or quit. 

Domingo resolved that he would listen no more to these 
legends. He had enough of them, as he felt for the chain 
round his neck, to which a little gold cross was attached. 
And he run his fingers into his pocket for his sacred charm. 
Finding his spiritual battery all right, he regained some 
courage as he returned to the villa of Santa Lucia. But poor 
Domingo could uot keep his resolution ; he could not keep 
hivS head under the bed-clothes of ignorance. He must put 
Ins nose out occasionally to breathe his proper element in 
ladies’ society. A few days thereafter his knowledge was 
further extended. 

Don Nicolas had expressed some slight displeasure at the 
refractory peons of the pueblo of Acatala. He had his eye 
upon them and it Avas at all times an evil eye, against Avhich 


272 


THE METROPOLITES. 


no amulet was of any pov/er. He went down in the evening 
to a granja^ from which this pueblo was a half league distant, 
where its peons worked when their services were wanted. 
At breakfast next day, before noon, a mandon desired to 
speak to him. He was ordered to come in, when this peon, 
a head workman, a mandon of sugar-cane cutters, entered. 

He bowed low in the deepest humility, until his uncovered 
head almost touched the brick floor, and remained in that 
posture. “ Rise and speak, hombre,” said Sabina, in a gentle 
tone, whereupon the humble peon stood up. 

“ Do you wish to speak to me ?” 

“ Yes, senor amoP 

“ What do you want ?” 

“ The peons of Acatala will not work, senor amo'"* 

“Then have their alcalde make them.” 

“It is the fiesta of San Martin, their senor amoP 

“You can go,” said Sabina, pointing to the door, and the 
humble mandon quietly quit the room. 

The feast-day of the patrhn-saint of a pueblo is a high fes- 
tival of the peons. It is the great day in their calendar. 
It is looked forward to as a day of much festivity, of great 
pleasure and amusements. High Mass is celebrated in the 
morning, then the procession forms and the colossal wooden 
image of the saint is borne on the stout shoulders of men 
through the street, under arches and arbors of roses and 
flowery festoons to the sound of music, wdth the priests sing- 
ing hymns, the boys swinging censers, bearing lighted can- 
dles and reading prayers. The funcion being ended, the rest 
of the day is devoted to feasting, music, dancing, drinking, 
and gambling. 

The young men are dressed out in new cotton camisas and 
calzoncillos^ and red silk sashes. The girls put their silk stock- 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


273 


ings, with satin slijipers, on their little feet, then place grace- 
ful gossamer rohosas over their shoulders, and, with wreaths 
of flowers in their hair, are sporting all the finery of their 
limited wardrobes. Stands are seen for fruits, for cakes, 
for liquors, and for lemon-water ices, under mat awnings 
everywhere, and everybody comes to share in the flxscinat- 
ing excitement. 

In the height of the festivity a rumor is heard that Don 
I7icolas was coming. The girls and boys stop the dance to 
listen to the report. The music is hushed. Some say it 
is true ; others say it is not. Then they all hasten to the 
plaza for more news, with anxious looks. The whole popu- 
lation is soon assembled on that spot, when the venerable 
aura is seen to leave the church, and approach Don Nico- 
las and the Gabeza Negra riding into the town on horse- 
back. They talk for a moment, when Sabina sinks the spurs 
into his horse’s flanks, and the old priest is thrown violently 
to the ground in escaping the animal’s hoofs. 

The alcalde next approaches, hat in hand ; but Don Nico- 
las waves him ofi*, and, swinging round the long lash of his 
short-handled whip, cuts the magistrate on the cheek with 
the silken end. A young syndic rushes forward to implore 
his mercy, when Sabina, possibly mistaking his object, draws 
his pistol and shoots him through the body. A loud, moan- 
ing cry is raised by the whole multitude, as they rush, panic- 
stricken, for refuge to the church altar. But Don Nicolas is 
before them, and heads them ofi*. 

The crowd was swayed for a moment to and fro like a 
wave of the sea, which ended in a precipitate flight into the 
opposite juzgado. They all rushed, regardless of the limited 
space in which they would soon be found. Sabina and the 
Cabeza sat motionless on their horses until the last peon, 

12 * 


274 


THE METROPOLITES. 


woman, and child entered and closed the door. Don Nicolas 
dismounted and ordered them to come out one by one. But 
no response was made. After a moment’s pause, he went to 
the small aperture which served for a window, and repeated 
a similar order. But from the silence within no reply was 
given. 

Seizing a burning brand, he hurled it on a thatched roof 
close by, and instantly the house made of cane was in flames. 
As the smoke was perceived by the peons a heart-rending 
cry was raised, for an infant was sleeping there, the first- 
born of a young mother who had been forced by the rushing 
crowd into the juzgada. But she was too far from the door 
to come forth, so that, in her frantic agony, she fainted wdth 
grief and terror. Another house was soon in flames, but the 
panic-stricken natives seemed incapable of action. 

He again approached the window and threatened to fire, 
Avith his pistol in hand, unless they came forth. At the next 
instant he sent a ball into the dense mass of human beings, 
from whence a loud, prolonged cry of despair went up to 
heaven, imploring aid. Again Sabina ordered them to open 
the door, as another house was in a sheet of flame. Slowly 
the bolt Avas withdrawn, the door opened, and as an aged 
peon stepped out, Sabina gave him a blow over the head wdth 
the butt-end of his loaded whip, which felled the poor crea- 
ture to the ground, with his skull broken. 

Next followed a woman, whom he struck on the shoulder 
with his pistol, and her arm was paralysed at her side as she 
sank to her knees ; then rising slowly, moved away. Scanning 
all closely as they made their exit one by one, he suffered 
some to pass, while others received marks of gross indignity 
or violence. The alcalde was shot down Avith a ball through 
his brain. A young wife, soon to become a mother, he kicked 


THE METROPOLITES. 


275 


in the side, when she fell, to be carried away speechless. A 
Avidow came out with a little hoy, about four years old, hold- 
ing her hand. He trotted along at her side, gathering up his 
little shirt, when his tiny, bare legs being exposed, the silk 
lash fell ujion one of them, below the knee, bringing the 
blood like the gash of a knife. He turned his innocent head 
over his shoulder to look back at Sabina, without stopping, 
while the big tears, m his agony, were rolling down his 
flushed cheeks, as he exclaimed : “ Mamma, mamma, the 

colotli^ the colotli — the scorpion — has bit me !” 

The mother seized the afflicted limb and applied her lips to 
the wound. Perceiving it was the cut of a whip, she turned 
her weeping eyes in thankfulness to heaven, that it Avas only 
the scourge of a tyrant, and not the venomous sting of the 
reptile. Poor creature ! hoAV afflicted, Avhen the lacerating 
lash is Auewed as a boon or lesser evil. 

Tho, plaza Avas now deserted. All the houses on the square 
were in flames. The first building, where the infant had been 
sleeping, Avas sunk into one mass of burning coals. Other 
houses were igniting in the lanes, and the smoke Avas rolling 
in clouds above and around. 

Sabina lit a cigaretta by the glowing embers, mounted his 
horse, and rode leisurely away with the Caheza Kegra. The 
pueblo was a ruin, the church roof had not escaped, and the 
beams and blazing rafters fell upon the high altar, Avhere the 
images Avere consumed and the sacred A essels destroyed. 
The inhabitants left during the night. When Domingo 
visited the pueblo in the morning, all was silent, with a thick 
smoke rising from the smouldering ashes. 


276 


THE METROPOLITES. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

The Marquez has gone to the mountains ; the Marquez has 
gone a hunting, with only his cook and arriero aS attendants. 
Don Xicolas had insinuated he was going in search of guacas^ 
and Olivera had not denied it. Don Xicolas hoped he would 
be fortunate in finding rich thmostU^ tombs, and the Marquez 
thanked him for his good wishes at starting. But for all 
that Sabina believed the Marquez would not find treasure ; 
that he would come back soon to accept his proposal. 

When the nobleman was a boy, living with his parents on 
the hacienda of Santa Inez, before the revolution forced 
them to quit for Spain, he was a great favorite of a young 
country priest, a cura^ who had been successful in the search 
for thmostU. This padre knew where to look for guacas, the 
consecrated burial-grounds of the ancient people, who cen- 
turies ago inhabited the country. He could soon detect the 
signs that led to a thmostli^ an isolated, low, dome-covered 
tomb of pyramidal structure, within of stone and cement, 
in which reposed the remains of their great men, now imbed- 
ded in the vines, mosses, and other dense vegetation. 

The Marquez often foimd pleasure in accompanying the 
padre in his excursions, and in a short time was as expert 
in Avoodcraft as the cura himself. Hunting, therefore, Avas 
only a branch of his sylvan education. He became an anti- 
quarian, skilled in teocalli, pottery, stone images, hieroglyj)hs, 
and tumuli. He was daring in the exploration of caverns, in 
climbing the shelAung sides of canadas^ descending into the 
abyss of profound barrancas and swimming mountain array os. 
He had been absent for many years, and on his retiirn no\v 
the cura was gone from the hacienda, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


277 


Olivera disdained shooting rabbits, which were to be found 
under every bush in the open glades ; nor did he notice tlie 
quail with its top-knot of feathers, nor the silver partridge, 
nor the golden pheasant, nor the wild tiu'key. Gangas^ the 
yellow-legged plover, with ortolans, too, were abundant in 
the marshes, and wild duck in immense flocks. But these 
had no sporting charms for him. He had gone to the moun- 
tains to hunt the venado^ the large red deer, up among the 
pine forests. 

He had taken up his quarters with the carhoneros at their 
coal-pits, and he was on the path the peons follow descend- 
ing from the volcan^ with loads of ice packed in grass on 
their shoulders. He had wandered to the further side of the 
snow mountain, where the waters flow down to the South 
Sea. He was beyond the boundaries of .the hacienda of 
Santa Lucia. In that lonely, desolate, dreary region, the 
Marquez fabricated a story and frightened his attendants by 
informing them that, while asleep at midnight near to a coal- 
pit, he was attacked by a a vampiro^ with wings 

extending two feet across. This long-nebbed animal, once 
believed to be fabulous, is only too well known to the poor 
peons under various names in their many dialects. 

In the morning the nobleman — still feigning to suffer — 
assured them one of his legs was almost powerless, with 
great languor over his whole frame from loss of blood. He 
resolved, therefore, to fly without delay ; for it is known the 
vainpii*e renews its attack nightly on the same victim once 
seized upon ; pursuing his track for many leagues with every 
change of locality, until it drinks the last drop wliich will 
flow from the wound. The Marquez seemed with difiiculty 
to sit his mule, but said he would endure the pain to 
hasten doTO into the deep valleys, where some sheltermg 


278 


THE METROPOLITES. 


puehlo would keep ofl* the winged messenger of death, which 
dreads the vicinity of squalling cats and barking dogs. 

He was fortunate in reaching the puehlo of TeJman-cingo 
before nightfall, to find shelter in the only house vacant or 
fit for him — the gloomy juzgado^ with its black mud walls 
and earthen floor. The poor people of the village, with that 
sympathy for suffering which renders tropical inhabitants at 
all times so hospitable, sent their simple remedies for the 
imaginary wound. His remaining a day with them was an 
unheard of honor. No white person ever passes twenty-four 
hours in 2^ puehlo of natives. It was forbidden by law under 
the Spanish government, and now custom has taken the place 
of the positive edict to keep the two races distinct. 

But the Marquez could not move further, according to his 
own account, from pain and exhaustion. On the second day 
he succeeded in limping to a cane-house of one of the peons, 
to repose in a hammock, as it was refreshingly cool and 
pleasant. He gently swung himself to and fro while reading, 
and permitted the simple, kind women of the household to 
attend to their avocations, without demanding any of their 
service. 

They had all left the building during the day for th^ moun- 
tain stream which ran by the puehlo y all had gone to bring 
water in large earthen jars balanced gracefully on their heads ; 
all were absent except a maiden who sat sewing in a distant 
corner of one of the apartments separated by an open cane 
partition. The Marquez laid down his book, as he exclaimed, 
“ Lulu, Lulu.” The maiden raised her head from her work, 
and listened. “ Lulu, Lulu, come here,” cried the Marquez. 
She hastened to his relief to find him, to her surprise, in a sit- 
ting posture with both feet upon the ground. 

As she stood before him in amazement, he cast upon her a 


THE METROPOLITES 


279 


beaming smile, such as the maiden might suppose a pitying 
angel would shed upon a dying infant. “ Lulu, Lulu, you are 
a good girl ; I have come only to this pueblo^ only to see you. 
Remember the poor lady at the Retiro ; and be still, be cau- 
tious, be a good girl. Listen ! To-night, after midnight prayei-, 
I will come for you, and you will tell me all. But not a word 
of this to any one. Remember,” he added, as he dropped a 
diamond ring into her hand. 

“ But, Sefior, your wound — you cannot walk !” 

The Marquez leisurely rose and moved to the door. Look- 
ing out for a moment to see if any one approached, he turned, 
and shaking his forefinger before his eyes as a negative to 
her remark, said, “No, no. Lulu. I was not touched by a 
citlatl% vampire. I am well. That is all encjaao — a sham.” 
He seated himself on the swinging hammock, and asked: 
“ Where is your bed. Lulu ?” She pointed to one in a dis- 
tant room in a corner. “Tis well,” said he. “Now go and 
remember.” 

The illustrious invalid was reposing in a languid mood 
when the women returned with water. He sent for his ser- 
vants, and retired, leaning on the arm of the arriero^ in much 
evident pain, which elicited the pitying commiseration of the 
kind household. Not long after oracion^ the hour of vespers, 
the moon appeared in all her bright splendor. Before mid- 
night the pueblo was in the quiet repose of deep slumber. 

The Marquez rose from his couch, and seizing the hat and 
aerape — the crimson-striped blanket of his arriero^ left the 
building. 

He stood at the door for a moment to listen and observe 
the course of the shadows cast by the gigantic parota trees. 
Then stealing softly along under their wide-spreading 
branches, he reached the house of Lulu. He carefully exa- 


280 


THE METROPOLITES. 


mined the corner which he supposed was her bed-chamber 
within, before he inserted his hand through the reeds that 
formed tlie outer wall. Seizing her little foot, he pressed it 
till she awoke. Her ear was immediately applied to the 
canes, as she asked who was there. 

“ Come, Li;lu, it is the horn*,” said the Marquez, in a whis- 
per, and walked away to the shade of a tree. 

Soon after, the maiden moved like a meteor past the house 
in the direction the Marquez had taken. As she stood in the 
bright moonlight at his side, with her slight drapery, for her 
night garments could scarce be called clothing, wdth her long 
glossy hair streaming down her back, and her little feet 
glancing in small slippers, the nobleman thought he had 
never beheld a more beautiful little creature. “Lulu, you 
are a good girl,” said he, putting his arm round her w'aist ** 
and kissing her. The maiden submitted in silence to his 
caress, and they walked up the street under the shadows to 
a high cross at the end, where a large circular seat, called a 
glorieta^ of cement in variegated colors, which often aflbrded 
a resting-place for the inhabitants on a pleasant evening. 

When they were seated in one corner, under the shade of 
a neighboring tree. Lulu told him the sad history of the lady. 
She had been seized in a public thorouglifare jof a large city 
in some far-off country, forced into a carriage, and put on 
shipboard, with sails all set, before the sun went down. 
Unable to escape, and incapable of transmitting intelligence 
to her relatives, she had confided all to Dolores. She had 
given her a package of letters to send, if ever an opportunity 
should offer, which seemed to her hopeless. Lulu had them 
now at home and would give them to the Marquez. Then 
she told him of the lady’s avocations day by day, and the 
indignities suffered at the hands of Sabina. In his fiendish 


THE METROPOLITES. 


281 


policy he boasted to his victim he had cut off all hope of her 
parents ever making search for her. He had succeeded in 
placing in their hands a number of letters, apparently written 
to her by a lover, ingeniously worded, so as to convey the 
impression that they formed a portion of correspondence of 
answers to her letters, proving the elopement voluntary on 
her part and long meditated. 

Lulu shed copious tears while she told all, and described 
the inaccessible position of the convent, except at the bridge 
over the Barranca Ancha. Time flew away in their forget- 
fulness of the hour, and Lulu was startled when, looking up 
to the heavens, she saw the constellation of the southern or 
muleteer’s cross declining to the horizon in the South-west, 
indicative of approaching day. She could not again meet the 
Marquez at night, without being observed. She would have 
no opportunity to see him alone at her house. In her per- 
plexity she sprang from the seat, exclaiming, “ Meet me at 
the olherca^'' and, like a flash, her pretty form was lost among 
the trees. 

The mountain stream near the pueblo comes down from 
the snow-drifts of the volcan. In its descent the waters lose 
some of their fi-igid temperature, but at the village their 
channel was enlarged to a deep swift current. Its banks 
were fringed at places with moss-covered rocks, where it ran 
ill rapids ; but again at the silent pools tall trees, free of 
branches beneath, grass lawns interspersed with flowers and 
wild vines, formed a glade, in which the eye could penetrate 
through the cool shaded grove to a great distance. 

The attractive beauty of the little river was the dazzling 
white granite debris, .intermixed with the deceptive mica 
reflected from its bed and borders, or collected where the 
eddies had made a deposit. On first sight the illusion was 


282 


THE METROPOLITES. 


almost perfect that the stream was rich in precious dust, for 
its waters rolled apparently over golden sands. At a point 
where the sylvan scene was most enchanting, at the foot of 
some small rapids, the current was sluggish, gradually in- 
creasing in depth to the centre.. Here Avas the favorite resort 
for bathing ; and in the evening, before sundown, here the 
village maidens were to be seen in this, the alberca. 

Divesting themselves of their light drapery, they would 
wade or plunge into the refreshing element, and swim to 
the o})posite shore, not more than twenty yards distant. Col- 
lecting in groups upon the golden sands, or sitting on mossy 
rocks, or sporting in the pool, they resembled one of those 
classic tableaux the ancient poets graphically portray, no 
doubt drawn from life. These children of the sun, descend- 
ants of half-civilized communities, for centuries extinct be- 
fore the conquest, had all the native grace, beauty of form, 
and seductive tones which are to be found in their highest 
development in the warm latitudes. They were of a blood 
immixed with the Spanish race. But, Avith the introduction 
of Christianity from Europe, came also another strange peo- 
ple from the further Indies, the Chinese. These migratory 
Mongols came in the galleons from Manilla, and also in ves- 
sels of their oAvn, to spread themselves along the coast-range 
of the South Sea, in search of new regions for rice fields. 
With these the natives mingled, creating a new type of love- 
liness, by adding the white skin and almond-shaped eye to 
the native charms, thus reproducing the classic, ideal beauty 
of the Grecian Isles in the tropical climate of the western 
hemisphere. It is from this alliance of the Aztec Avdth the 
Asiatic that these pueblo natives have derived that white, 
bght olive hue of color Avhich sometimes erroneously claims 
for them kindred A\dth Caucasian origin. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


283 


How many more reflections the Marquez might have made 
upon the beautiful forms before him is uncertain, as he sat the 
next evening behind a mossy bank, a few paces down the 
stream. But Lulu had been anxiously awaiting him at the 
alberca^ and as she stood on the golden sands, looking around, 
she espied a wave of his hand. Plunging into the stream, she 
floated down the crystal current, until she found herself in 
the deep, clear water, close at his feet, shut out from view of 
the other maidens at the alberca. 

“ I thought you would come here, sehor,” said she, mo- 
destly. 

“ Thank you, Lulucita, for your kindness. But when will 
you give me the package of letters ?” 

“■ They are here, sehor.” 

“ Hot in the water, nina^ surely,” said he, looking down 
in the limpid element, where her pretty, shining form was 
visible. 

“ Ho, not in my hands, sehor,” raising her arms; “ but un- 
der the stone beneath yon huehueie tree, where you can see 
them.” 

“ Is this all you have to say to me, dear Lulu, before we 
part ?” 

“ It is all,” said the maiden, with a tear and blush man- 
tling her cheek, as she thought how tender her feelings had 
become to the handsome nobleman. 

“ Then remember, Lulucita mia^ you must come when I 
send for you. Adios hasta luego!'''* 

“Yes, yes; I will come night or day,” said she, eagerly, 
sinking under the water to hide her emotion, nor did she 
rise to the surface again until he was gone. 

The Marquez once more returned to the carboneros among 
the mountains. His course was not taken back to Santa Lu- 


284 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ciil, but, tui ning off before arriving at the highest ridge, he 
followed a path leading to the right, Avhich ran to valleys 
having but little communication with the hacienda. lie slept 
the first night in the Imt of a carbonero^ and left early in the 
morning, while a thick frost wliitened the grass. On reach- 
ing the summit the sun was up, when the exhalations from 
the low grounds and deep valleys had risen like a curtain, to 
shut out his view below. But one of those unusual scenes 
was before him, never witnessed except by those standing at 
early dawn on high mountains. The vapors obscured all ter- 
restrial objects beneath, but the sun shone down upon them, 
rising at his feet, producing all the dark and brilliant hues of 
liglit ever seen in the heavens, and making the illusion similar 
in every part of outline and detail to an Arctic scene of an 
immense glassy sea, in which floated huge icebergs of every 
size, shape, and form, in all their gorgeous colors, with the 
peaks of mountains, far down, penetrating the fleecy mist, as 
green islands in this resplendent ocean of clouds. 

The Marquez often before, Avhen a youth, had seen this 
beautiful illusion, and it now filled his soul with delight, 
bringing back vivid reminiscences of happy boyhood. He 
stood gazing in rapture on this fleeting panorama, until the 
mists, rising to his own position, excluded all objects around 
in a dense fog. It was then only he remembered he was igno- 
rant of his elevation above the burning plains through which 
he had to pass on the day’s journey ; and it was important to 
ascertain how far it was to the bafee of the mountains. 

This fact could only be known by the vegetation, which 
has its zones of altitude for propagation in the tropics, as it 
has of latitude in more northern countries. He was too well 
versed in woodcraft to be unskilled in this essential know- 
ledge. The nobleman observed the diminutive pine trees 


THE METROPOLITES. 


285 


and stunted oaks, as sure indications tliat he was at the lower 
line where these forest trees will grow. But he gathered 
some specimens of the maiz sylvestre^ the wild Indian-corn, 
•the small ears of which were only a few inches long, with the 
grains adhering to each other in the centre, where the cob 
exists after cultivation. He plucked also flowers, white and 
blue, of the patata — the wild jiotato, and pulled up some of 
the vines to examine the bulbous plants, not much larger than 
peas. 

These vegetable signs demonstrated to his well practised 
eye, the elevation above the sea ; no barometrical experi- 
ments would have produced more accurate results. But he 
held a grain of corn and one of the puny potatoes in his hand 
for a moment in deep thought. “ Yet they will still deny,” 
said he, aloud in soliloquy, “ that my country produced either 
of these in its native state, when I know they are indigenous 
to the whole torrid zone at the proper altitude above the 
ocean. They have appropriated both, and with their culture 
feed millions of people, even retaining the names used by the 
natives before the conquest, and still used in every pueblo. 
Should' a blight come over the one or the other, after centu- 
ries of cultivation, perhaps they may then unlearn history, to 
come hither for primitive plants for a more hardy and healthy 
growth.” 

Descending the mountains by a mule-path that led to 
miwQ pueblos beyond the boundaries of the hacienda of Santa 
Lucia, the Marquez amved at the head-waters of a stream 
which flowed before reaching the sea through the dreaded 
Canada of Esqueletos. It was yet many leagues to that 
formidable place, supposed to have in its deep abyss a cata- 
ract over which no animal could pass with life, nor craft be 
navigated in safety. But he pursued the road along the 


286 


THE METROPOLITES. 


water from pueblo to pueblo^ resting for the night in one 
of the huts which afforded shelter for him and his ser- 
vants. 

With the morning sun he was again on his way down the 
narrow valley leading to the frightful Canada. When the 
long shades of evening had fallen on his lonely path, he 
arrived at the last pueblo^ the one nearest to the JEsqueletos. 
It was here he had to make his preparations for the daring 
adventures through the yawning gulf now opening its per- 
pendicular cliffs before him, to warn, by their lofty rugged 
sides, against the mad enterpiise. On entering the small 
village, whose scattered houses indicated the poverty of the 
inhabitants, he looked anxiously around for some inviting 
quarter wherein he might find suitable accommodation. 

He looked in vain for any friendly shelter. The houses 
were small, mean, and with a squalid appearance, indicative 
of decay or neglect. The pueblo had not that bright, clean, 
healthy aspect which is generally to be found among them 
in the tropics. The MaiMjuez for a moment regretted his 
haste ill not halting at some other village through which he 
had passed, where more comforts might have been found. 
He was about turning his horse’s head towards a smiling 
hamlet, on the distant side of the valley, when his eye caught 
sight of a little chapel and curacy in a grove of bananas. 

He immediately., rode up to the curate’s liouse and dis- 
mounted. Throwing the jein of the bridle to his arriero^ he 
entered the half-open door into a room where was a rough 
table and two rude benches from hewn logs, with some few 
low seats on sticks. The floor was the parent earth, the sides 
of the building adobe, or unbumt brick, without windows, 
while the rafters were visible under the thatched roof. The 
room was vacant ; but he could see into an inner apartment. 


THE METROPOLITES. 28'’^ 

where the priest was apparently in deep meditation or at hi;j^ 
evening devotions. 

The Marquez seated himself on one of the rude benches 
or logs, and rapped with his whip-handle on the table. Pre- 
sently the priest entered in his black silk sotana, with his 
arms folded ; and as he bowed low with his shaven crown to 
his visitor, the nobleman seemed vaguely to recognise his 
countenance as one seen years before. “ Holy father,” said 
the Marquez, rising politely, “I have come to crave your 
hospitality for the night, and something to eat, for I am fam- 
ished.” 

“ You have come, my son, where is nothing but poverty. 
Pass on to the pueblo, beyond the paso, before nightfall, and 
escape the robbers,” answered the recluse, with much humi- 
lity, while his little black eyes wandered over the person of 
the nobleman and over his retinue beyond. “ I can give you 
whatever spiritual succor you may need. It is near time for 
oracion, in which you can mingle your prayers with mine, 
and continue the same through the watches of the night with 
me, and thus lefreshed by a salutary fast, after the alavao 
at dawn you can depart in peace, comforted and blessed.” 

“ Venerable father, we fast not on a pilgrimage, and our 
holy Mother Church has appointed this season for a festival. 
JMoreover, night is now coming on, the mists are descending 
from the hills, the muttering of distant thunder threatens 
rain.” 

“ 3Iy son, you speak Tvell. You visit a sacred shrine, and. 
they hold a high fiesta at the pueblo beyond the ford to- 
night. It may be dark when you pass, but the lights beyond 
will enable you to climb the steep bank. Go on to the bro- 
ken cross on a pile of stones, where the drunken peon mur- 
dered his wife and child ; from thence your way is clear to 


THE METROPOLITES. 


^38 

-e tree, where you will find skeletons of three robbers ; then 
ake the left hand road, and before moonrise you will arrive 
at the puehloP 

“ Give us what you have, holy father, and we will rest on 
the floor with you to-night.” 

“ I can give you nothing, my pilgrim son, save some fried 
bananas, a few figs, and a Chili pepper,” answered the priest, 
in deep humility and eyes turned upwards, with his arms 
still crossed on his bosom. 

“ Hard fare for a traveller, holy father ; but we must not 
complain when the ministers at the sacred altar tell us it is 
their only food.” 

The priest winced somewhat at this response, but his little 
black eyes twinkled with some secret satisfaction. 

“ Times have changed,” added the Mai*quez ; “ times have 
much changed, when in fitting himself for heaven the even- 
ing stewed chicken, the highly flavored salad, and copeta of 
cognac are given up by that epicure compadre Anselmo.” 

The priest started back in astonishment. “ It is his voice. 
By our Lady the Immaculate Virgin of Compostella, it is his 
voice !” cried the priest, and with a joyful bound he threw 
himself into the arms of the Marquez, exclaiming : “ Miguel- 
ito, my own dear Miguelito,” as he pressed him to his bosom. 


CHAPTER XXY. 

Padre Ansetaio, now before the Marquez, was the former 
young mra who taught him how to search for the thmostli. 
The scene immediately changed upon the recognition. Mes- 
sengers were sent in all directions for provisions, for fruit, and 


THE METKOrOLlTES. 


2S9 


provender. In a half hour the larder of Anselrao was stocked 
amply to sustain a siege of many days from hungry guests. 
The priest was most particular and minute in his direct ions 
to the nobleman’s cook. Nor was it long before that artist 
served up a bountiful repast, rich and varied in meats and 
fruit, with a suitable dessert and coffee. 

Anselrao did full justice to all placed before him, with 
scarce a word to say while the good cheer was on the table. 
However, when all was removed, a fit of melancholy or of 
sentimental .reminiscences came over him, that threatened to 
end in a flood of tears. “ Miguelito, my son, you formerly had 
always a drop of good cognac about you. Have you still 
kept fast to that virtuous habit among the vices of the con- 
tinent ?” 

“ Yes, compadre^ I think some can be found on strict 
search among my mails.” 

“That’s a good fellow,” replied Father Anselmo. “I 
always believed you would never forget the early lessons I 
inculcated. And now, my son, I must ask you further — Do 
you still recollect my instructions to you on the choice of 
cigars ? If I remember, I exhorted you to adhere to Regalias, 
as most conducive to sweet meditation and innocent conduct. 
Have you still, Miguelito, my son, cherished my words of 
^visdom ?” 

The affirmative response of the Marquez to these home- 
searching interrogatories filled Father Anselmo with rapture ; 
and when his small wine-glass was replenished with pure 
brandy, to be sipped while smoking his choice tobacco, he 
felt amply rewarded for his pious care over the early moral 
development of the youth. “ You never, Miguelito, my son, 
took kindly to the cock-pit, and I mourned in secret your 
aversion to that manly amusement ; I could have taught you 

13 


290 


TFIE METKOPOLITES. 


how to know a chicken, to cut his comb and trim him, and to 
set the gaffs, so as not to break while bringing blood at every 
clip. There you were wi'ong ; I could have taught you how to 
detect cheating, and a game bird from a craven, and how 
to pit them in the ring. Well, well, it is all past now.” 
Here the lamentations of Anselmo were relieved by a deep 
sigh. 

“ They tell me, my son, you have been a great gambler, and 
lost. That is a pity ; a great pity. Had I been with you, I 
might have improved your fortune. But people will bet after 
luck changes. They don’t know when to quit. Luck never 
comes more than once a day; to some people only once in a 
lifetime. Well, well, we need not talk about what cannot 
be helped.” Again a deep sigh relieved the surcharged vir- 
tuous emotions of Father Anselmo. 

“ But what have you been doing all this time, compadre .^” 
inquired the Marquez. “ I hope you have made your fortune 
in your superior wisdom and discretion ?” 

“ Far from it, far from it,” answered Anselmo, with a shake 
of his head, and a negative, significant signal of his forefinger 
before his eyes. “ I am not my own master. They have sent 
me to this out-of-the-way place, because I know the various 
dialects spoken in the different pueblos of this parish. No 
fees to keep soul and body together, let alone any amusement 
and pleasure.” 

“ Don’t the people pay you for your services ?” 

“ They would pay me if they could ; but they are tdo poor. 
I never see silver coin — all copper tlacos, and my whole an- 
nual income I calculate in gold, which is all I have to do with 
that metal. It amounts to three ounces.” 

“ Three ounces ! Is that all for a year’s services ? I would 
write to the Bishop, complain to the Colegiata. I would pe- 


THE METROPOLITES. 291 

tition the JMetropolitan, as this is a missionary parish propcir 
gandaP 

“ I did all that, Miguelito. I asked for Mtj pesos — only fifty 
dollars — and they sent me a pastoral letter, of fifty-two pages, 
printed beautifully. The canon who writes the letters of the 
Bishop, I know very well. His mother sold puros y barajas^ 
common cigars and playing cards, while several gentlemen 
denied the honor of his paternity, resenting this imputation 
on their mode of settling tobacco bills. He hates the priests 
of the south — ^the cur as del sur — ^thinks us wicked, ignorant, 
immoral, while we are martyrs of Carmelite purity and po- 
verty. He sent me a private letter with the pastoral, recom- 
mending it for pleasant, light reading. Only think of that — 
fifty-two pages of anjdhing — light reading ! when he knows 
I have to trust to memory to get through the prayers and the 
catechism of Padre Ripalda with the children. He said 
I would admire the style, an excellent imitation of pas- 
torals in the primitive church of the fourth century, of the 
Syi’ian Bishop Athanasius. But not one word about the fifty 
pesos. 

“ Did you thank him for his kindness and attention ?” 

“ Certainly, I thanked him. I wrote, saying I held the pas- 
toral so precious, with its fifty-two pages beautifully printed, 
that I had placed it for safe keeping in the bosom of the Vir- 
gin, where it would remain until the paragraph about the 
fifty pesos was answered. Calling his attention to the omis- 
sion as accidental, I wished him to send me, out of the fund, 
some papers of his dear mamma’s highly flavored puros, six 
for a tlaco, and a few packs of her fresh barajas — cards, with 
many loving remembrances to the dear lady, and to Don 
Tomas Espada. You must know Espada is an old picador in 
the toros — in the bull fights, and his fancy, sky-blue, satin 


292 


THE METROPOLITES. 


jacket, with bunches of bright ribbons dangling at the knees 
of his scarlet silk breeches, it is generally supposed, not only 
inflamed the rage of the toro^ but at the same time the tender 
passion in the susceptible heart of the mamma. Hence the 
pedigree of the canon.” 

“ And that ended the correspondence ?” said the Mar- 
quez. 

“ Caramba^ no^ not a bit of it. He answered like the 
echo, sent me back the fifty dollars in three gold ounces and 
two silver ^6505 fuertes. He desired me to wuute soon again, 
as we had been boys together, were now brothers' in the 
apostolic succession, and some other expresiones^ as long and 
unmeaning as the last page of a protocolo by a notary.” 

“ It must be confessed, the secretary,” said the nobleman, 
“ does not bear malice.” 

“Hot where it is unprofitable. But he supposed my epistle 
might become a popular form for con-espondence among the 
ciiras del sur in answer to pastorals, and it was better to pay 
fifty dollars to buy the copyright. The style is more taking 
than that of the primitive Christians in the time of Athana- 
sius the Bishop.” 

“ But, Father Anselmo, can you live on a hundred dollars a 
year?” 

“ It is all I can get, my son, and I am not dead.” 

“ Your tastes, your habits, even a decent respect for your 
sacred duties, would require a larger sum.” 

“ I have had only two shirts and not a pair of shoes in the 
last twelve months. Look here, Miguelito,” raising his foot, 
on the sole of which was a rude piece of leather^ bound Avith 
coarse thongs passing through his toes, with another over the 
heel and tied at the ankle, “ look at these gtiaraches^ like the 
picture of the apostles in sandals calling on the disciples to 


THE METROPOLITES. 


293 


wash their feet ; and, like them, I feel refreshed with a hatia 
of water, if a village maiden has her hand in it.” 

The Marquez smiled at this application of Scripture by the 
merry Father Anselmo, as he replied : “You resemble the 
primitive Christians in this custom, and deserve to be cano- 
nized.” 

“ I would much prefer a pair of new shoes at present.” 

“ You must not want for any comfort, compadre^ while I 
have it,” said the Marquez. 

“ What do you care now for me, after years of absence, 
Don Miguel? You forgot me long ago and the pleasant 
times we had,” exclaimed Father Anselmo, in a sorrowful 
mood. 

“ Not so, compadre, I look back upon our rambles through 
the mountains and valleys, rocks and streams, barrancas and 
canadas, as the happiest time in my life. I have thought of 
you always as the only companion I ever loved. In courts I 
have wished in vain for such a true friend ; in cathedrals I 
have longed for you at my side, to realize the sjilendor 
around, and to listen in rapture to the music, which has not 
its equal on earth, in the sweet ravishing harmony of its rich 
and soul-subduing strains. Even among princes I have often 
thought I would prefer my honest, simple, generous, true- 
hearted compadre to them all. Li coming back here, my 
first wish was to see you. I wrote to the Bishop, whom I 
know well, to learn your residence, and I suppose the answer 
is now awaiting my return to Santa Inez. No, no, my dear 
compadre^ while I have a peso you shall not be poor.” All 
this the Marquez expressed with much earnestness and emo- 
tion, as he continued : “ Eeturn to the hacienda as my chap- 
lain, and I will send orders that you shall have all you may 
ask for. Even in death you shall be buried under the altar. 


294 


THE METROPOLITES. 


'where I will not desert you, for my bones shall be brought 
to be laid at your side, and our 'dust at last mingle in one 
friendly, eternal embrace.” 

Father Anselmo was weeping like a child ; large tears 
coursed each other down his cheeks, which fell upon his 
breast. His feelings were too overpowering to give expres- 
sion in words ; a film came over his eyes. With a thick, chok- 
ing sensation in his throat. At last lie found language to 
relieve his overwrought excitement. “ Merciful God in Hea- 
ven! that I should live to hear this, to realize a hope, a 
dream of my life, and my labors rewarded — the return of the 
boy — the golden visions turned into reality ; words spoken 
which I craved as a boon only in a blessed world hereafter ; 
to hear them now ; to see that form once more in the body ; 
to listen to sounds never expected again on earth. ’Tis too 
much joy, too much happiness for me, a poor, miserable 
sinner !” Sobs and tears precluded further utterance of the 
Father Anselmo. He gazed for a moment steadily at the 
Marqtez, adding slowly : “ And that noble boy still loves the 
simple, ignorant, rude, barefooted priest. My own dear 
Miguelito, may all the saints in heaven pray for your eternal 
happiness,” and he threw himself into the arms of the noble- 
man. 

“Yes, my own answered the Marquez; “in 

all your simple ignorance a gem is within your bosom, sel- 
dom, if ever, worn by prince or cardinal. It is the generous, 
self-sacrificing sincerity of a warm, true, loving friend. It is 
more precious-than rubies ; it is beyond all price. The want 
of it makes worldly wisdom only vanity, and honors a mere 
empty pageant, more contemptible than the tinsel in which’ • 
they are bedizened.” 

Father Anselmo sat in silence for a moment, and then 


THE METROPOLITES. 


295 


replied: “Well, well, it may be so. I know nothing of 
courts or conclaves. But it now grows late. You need 
repose, and I will lead you to your couch.’’ Seizing a light 
from the table, he conducted the Marquez to a small inner 
room, where he found a bed inviting in his weariness. 

Early in the morning the nobleman commenced his prepa- 
rations for the navigation of the gloomy Canada. He exa- 
mined carefully the banks of the stream, those towering 
heights which rose in perpendicular grandeur like huge pali- 
sades to an altitude of some thousand feet. Through this 
chasm the waters madly rushed over a bed perhaps fifty 
yards in breadth, and with an unknown, unfathomed depth. 
It might be forty miles to the sea ; and to traverse that 
space, what cataracts, what rocks, timber-drifts, and whirl- 
pools might be encountered! Ho mortal had ever been 
known to return from its voyage ; none were willing now to 
venture. It was a surging current, without channel or shore, 
without safe anchorage or landing-place. Once upon its 
waters, you were driven on to the sea, or into the more 
boundless ocean of eternity. 

The Marquez had apprised Father Anselmo of his perilous 
resolve, for the purpose of receiving his valuable cooperation 
and counsel in the preliminary preparation. The priest en- 
deavored long and anxiously to dissuade him from the 
attempt. But when he perceived his mind fixed upon the 
enterprise, the cur a disguised his forebodings and distress, 
well knowing that it is dangerous to enter upon fearful 
actions with a gloomy heart. He supposed the IMarquez was in 
search of some rich thmostli to retrieve his desperate fortime. 
Tlie name of the caHada — of tlie Esqueletos — of skeletons, 
was indicative of some funereal remains. Its origin was for 
centuries lost in the shades of antiquity. 


296 


THE METROPOLITES. 


It was not with heavy timbers, with iron rivets, that the 
Marquez designed to form his raft, upon which to float 
through this rushing tide. On the contrary, he selected 
long bamboo reeds or cane, called halzas^ of which he made 
a platform, interlaced with strong twine. Upon this he 
placed another similar structure, with the canes at right 
angles to those beneath. These two were well joined with 
cords. Upon the lower side of this raft he placed several 
immense ealabazas^ or calabash, dried in the sun, and air- 
tight, which he bound securely to the reeds, thus rendering 
the whole buoyant, and floating lightly upon the water. 

With the assistance of the peons^ imder the guidance of 
Father Anselmo, the raft was complete and launched before 
noon. The Marquez next procured a supply of provisions, 
consisting of tasaco^ the sun-dried meat, in strips, and corn- 
meal, with some sugar, to_make totopo^ the nourishing food 
of the peon on a journey. He had also a twine hammock, 
with plenty of cords, his gun, and accoutrements. All of 
these articles, and the clothing he selected for use, were de- 
posited carefully in a sack, air-tight, impervious to water, so 
that in no adverse fortune could his baggage or food become 
damaged. A small dog, of the breed such as the Father 
Anselmo employed in his sylvan rambles, was to be his sole 
companion. 

Many hours before sundown, the Marquez was fully 
equipped for his perilous expedition, which he proposed to 
commence at dawn on the following morning. He therefore 
returned to the curacy to enjoy, while he could, the hospi- 
tality and conversation of his friend the Father Anselmo. 
They were seated after dinner, receiving the cool breeze 
which drew through the Canada, sipping coflTee and cognac 
in the interval of smoking. The cum had again essayed to 


THE METROPOLITES. 


297 


change the purpose of the nobleman. He had invoked every 
argument to convince or persuade, but had failed. 

Moreover he pitied the Marquez, who he believed was 
staking his life, with the chances against him, to gain some 
treasure to retrieve his fortune. He considered it a noble 
motive, extorting his admiration while he condemned its 
rashness. 

“ Stay with me, my dear Miguelito, and we will once more 
be happy in hunting treasure togetlier. I kiiow where much 
is yet to be found, and, you with me, we will become rich 
in a short time.” 

The Marquez only shook his head in a negative response to 
Anselmo’s generous offer. 

“ Then I will go with you to the hacienda. You will ma- 
nage the estate until it is in order and furnishing an ample 
revenue. If then you wish to return to Spain, I will keep 
you advised of all things in your absence.” 

Still no change was visible in the fixed purpose of Don 
Miguel. The Father Anselmo was in an agony of doubt and 
dread ; all the light flow of cheerfulness was gone, as he sat 
drooping, sad, and disconsolate. He was debating in his mind, 
the possibility of success by a final powerful appeal. Nerv- 
ing himself to the desperate effort, with teeth close set, he 
struck his hand on .the table, exclaiming: “I will do it.” 
Then turning, he said, pointing over his shoulder to a corner : 
“ Go there and open the chest ; you will find something which 
may tempt you to stay.” 

Don Miguel rose and raised the lid, as Anselmo fixed his 
eyes in an opposite direction on the table before him. 

When the Marquez looked into the large box, he started 
back hastily in ludicrous amazement. Th6 beaming eyes of 
a pensive beauty, with ruby lips, rosy cheeks, and golden hair, 

13 * 


298 


THE METROPOLITES. 


were bent in a pleasant smile upon the nobleman from 
\>'ithin. 

“ Father Anselmo, what have you here, you old sinner !” 
cried he, shocked at the sight. 

“ Something which ought to tempt you,” replied Anselmo, 
without raising his eyes. 

“ "VYhat, what have I to do with this young woman!” 
exclaimed the Marquez. 

Anselmo looked up hastily, and turning on his seat to wit- 
ness the nobleman’s astonishment and shame, burst into a 
suppressed laugh, which shook his sides in the utmost glee. 
“ Is she not beautiful, beautiful, Miguelito ?” 

“ It is disgraceful, shockingly disgraceful, Anselmo.” 

Here the priest laughed loud and long, swinging his body 
back and forth until almost choked. “ Pull down the sheet, 
the sheet,” cried he, “ and look at her naked charms, her 
bust and waist, legs and feet !” Again he went oft' in another 
peal of laughter. 

“This is an insult, Anselmo, to have a woman in your 
house.” 

“ Say a virgin, a virgin, Miguelito ; the virgin of Hue-lapan, 
newly cream-laid and painted.” 

“ The virgin of what ?” asked the Marquez, sharply, but at 
the same time drawing near to the box and looking in. 

The nobleman blushed deeply, as he discovered his mis- 
taking an image for a pretty girl ; while Father Anselmo held 
his sides and groaned from pain caused by his immoderate 
merriment. 

“ You have opened the wrong eofre^ Miguelito ; but many 
a man would have profited by such a blunder without blush- 
ing as you do.” 

The Marquez, however, did not heed this remark, looking 


THE METROPOLITES. 


299 


at the beautiful image in the box. “ It is well done,” said he, 

the illusion is perfect.” 

“ Yes,” replied Anselmo, “ she is more beautiful than Our 
Lady, the virgin of Ocotlan.” 

The Marquez started at the comparison, but immediately 
regained his composure as the priest proceeded. “Poor 
thing, she had no air lately iu fiestas^ nor exercise in proce- 
clones / her cheeks grew pale, and we treated her as a faded 
beauty ought to be treated, with a fresh coat of rose cream.” 

“ But why keep her here, Anselmo ?” 

“ The chapel at Huelapan is not finished, and the virgin 
has been on my hands for years. Every spring they expect 
to complete and consecrate the temple, and every year, there- 
fore, the women have made up for her a new dress and under- 
clothes.” 

“That must be expensive. Why go to the trouble and 
cost ?” 

“ Because the fashions change, and she is to be the rival 
virgin to Ocotlan. It would never answer to have it otherwise. 
Sometimes they made sleeves puffed out like the skin of a 
pnerco full of wine, sometimes short sleeves, sometimes no 
sleeves at all. Then again a high bosom dress, then a low 
bosom, then all fine lace. They had to give her pantalettes, 
and now they talk of crinoline. Caramha ! that would be 
crinoline on the outskirts of creation. It is well no change is 
in silk stockings, satin slippers, in gloves, cambrics, collars 
and cuffs, or I do not know how we could afford it.” 

“ Ha|)py people, happy people,” said the Marquez, “ who 
can have all the benefit of the Paris fashions by joint con- 
tribution with comparative economy.” 

“ You say truly, my son, they are a happy people, and stay 
with me among them. You are too young to die yet ; your 


300 


THE METROPOLITES. 


fate is inevitable if you attempt the descent of the caiiada. 
Stay with me, and perhaps I can supply you with fortune. 
Come to this other cofre and look in it.” The priest, ap- 
proaching another chest, raised the lid and removed some 
old books that formed a covering on the top. Beneath was 
deposited a treasure in gold, which might have tempted a 
conqueror in the Indies. 

Bars and ingots of all dimensions, from one . pound to ten 
and twenty in weight, were seen in a rude state, pure, with- 
out the mint stamp, yet of the finest quality. It was impos 
sible to estimate the extent or value of the treasure, upon 
which the Marquez gazed with more surprise than cupidity. 
Nor did the Father Anselmo break the long silence which 
prevailed, while the nobleman was lost in astonishment at this 
unexpected wealth before him. 

“ This is wonderful,” said the Marquez, turning to Anselmo. 

“ It is the labor of a lifetime,” replied the priest. “ I worked 
for this, not for my own benefit, but with the hope you would 
return to take it and be happy. I have no need of it, and 
you want it. Take it all, all, noble boy. You spoke words 
last night more precious to me than gold. Here are former 
armlets, and bracelets, and anklets ; rings for the ears, for the 
lips, for the nose, for the fingers, all melted down, and the 
long, broad bands which went over the head from ear to ear, 
and from the forehead over the skull to the back. I worked 
alone ; not a mortal knows of this treasure. I melted it down 
and deposited it here, where no one would look for this rich 
deposit of the precious metal.” 

The Marquez walked away in silence to resume his seat. 
The Father Anselmo did not interrupt his thoughts, as he 
collected the old books over the gold and closed the lid. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


301 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

The Marquez embarked on his frail halzas at early dawn. 
He pushed into the middle of the stream with his setting- 
pole, where the current soon bore him at a bend out of sight 
of the good Father Anselmo and assembled peons. The 
spray dashed high over some rocks before him, but, guiding 
his course near the shore where the channel was open, the 
raft rapidly flew over the rushing waters in the cataract. 
Furiously borne along, his brain grew dizzy with the swift- 
passing objects on the perpendicular sides of the flinty pali- 
sades. His breathing was aflected by the motion as well as 
by the apprehension felt in looking to see in front the dashing 
billows in the descending tide. 

It was the first time he had been on a river where he saw 
the waters rushing down an inclined plane with a velocity 
threatening destruction to every object on their surface, yet 
he did not lose his nervo or presence of mind where both 
were essential. His former experience in mountain arroyos 
taught him that any buoyant object will naturally be thrown 
towards the centre of the current, and although a rock may 
look formidable, yet, on approaching, the waters seem to shun 
it in passings thus bearing off with them whatever may be 
floating on their bosom. 

With much agility he ran from one side to the other of his 
halzas., whenever his weight or the use of his long setting- 
pole could more effectually trim its direction. If a side or 
end of his raft did sometimes strike a rock, its elastic, yield- 
ing canes bent without breaking in the shock, to spring away 
in the deep, clear path. Fearful at first that some belt of 
stone across would effectually bar his passage, or some preci- 


302 


THE METROPOLITES. 


pitous falling cataract would engulph him in its reacting 
tide, he breathed free when the shelving obstacles began to 
indicate that, however swift the river might run, it would 
not end in a perpendicular abrupt fall. 

The roar around him at length diminished its deafening 
noise, the ripples seemed to flow somewhat more gently ; but 
he was caught in the whirlpools at the end of the cataract, 
to bo hurled round violently in eddying circles, which would 
have dashed his bark to pieces had jutting rocks intervened. 
Most fortunately the bed of the river was unobstructed, and 
as he gradually recovered from the vertigo caused by the 
rotary motion, he moved to the further end of his platform 
most distant from the centre of the pool, whereby liis course 
would be influenced towards the outer edge of the revolving 
waves. Soon his raft was caught by a counter-current which 
bore him under a high rock on shore, in an opposite direction 
in a placid stream. 

It was with joyful surprise he observed that the towering 
palisades here receded some yards from the water, leaving 
a verdant level strand slightly elevated above the river. 
He quickly sprang on shore, securing his raft by a rope, 
while the dog crept submissively to his feet. His clothes 
were saturated with spray from the comb of the waves 
through which he had dashed along. But disregarding, or 
perhaps refreshed by his humid garments, he carefully sur- 
veyed the surrounding scene, where indeed no human foot 
had been for centuries. The perpendicular walls of the Ca- 
nada were of rock, but in the small crevices at various alti- 
tudes vegetation had put forth to hide somewhat their grey- 
columned nakedness. The cactus bush, spreading its immense 
broad trunks or thorny branches, displayed its bright-colored 
red, yellow, and white flowers ; the fan palms, the tropical 


THE METROPOLITES. 


303 


fern, waved their leaves gracefully to the wind ; wild 
vines, draped thick with their golden nanche berries, the 
luscious, sylvan apricot, hung down like gorgeous tapes- 
try ; small trees, heavily laden with the ciruela^ the large, 
crimson, wild plum, attracted flocks of small birds of rich 
plumage. The large parrot and the wren-paroquet, cluster- 
ing like wood-pigeons in this safe retreat, built their four- 
squared and roofed nests so imitative of human habitations 
as to give rise to those fanciful legends in the torrid zone, 
that in a former state they had the gift of language, living 
in communities near mankind, to act as interpreters for the 
feathered tribes, and mediums of intercourse with man. 

'Startled by the approach of this unknown invader, they 
sent forth loud cries and shrill screams, till they assembled in 
flocks, sailing round over the waving waters, or swinging in 
the wind on impending branches, to watch his movements. 
A hermit-ape protruded his grey beard from his cavern, to 
bask his benumbed limbs on a narrow ledge high above the 
stream. But when the loquacious bipeds beheld his hairy 
anus and sides, as if mindful of their traditionary grievances 
against the human race, of which he seemed the representa- 
tive in the wilderness, they attacked him en masse, circling 
round his venerable head and striking him with their sharp 
beaks and strong claws, in a storm of uproar, until the hoary 
recluse withdrew in silent disgust, as if wearied with the 
brawling tongues and turmoil of the external world. 

On the top of this shelving landscape, with birds and ani- 
mals, the rugged upper line of the rocky cafiada was fringed 
with a cornice of verdure, which hung over the sides of the 
clifis, or ran horizontally along the ground on the edge of 
the precipice, to serve as a relief to the cold, grey columnar 
walls beneath. In truth, the position of Olivera towards 


804 


THE METROPOLITES. 


objects was reveised to what it had been in the- mountains, 
where he looked down at the scene at his feet, while here, 
for the most part, he gazed upwards upon it. Liglit and 
shade fell with novel hues, so that the aspect of nature Avas 
changed, with varied and pleasing colors, until he realized 
sensations new to him, filled with exciting and thrilling emo- 
tions. 

It was impossible for him to estimate the distance over- 
come in his perilous voyage. The speed with Avhich his craft 
had rushed through the rapids, and the bewildering quick suc- 
cession of the same kinds of objects, forbade all calculation. 
It was only by his watch that he could learn the hour of the 
day, for the sun and shadows Avere too deceptive in such a 
strange locality. It was not yet noon, and once more he 
embarked, keeping near to the shore till he had passed the 
great Avhirlpool in the centre. Then launching out into the 
river, his buoyant canes glided gently down a placid reach, 
bounded by a mountain at a bend, with bubbling fountains 
bursting up through the river bed, and throwing their jets 
for many yards in the air. In front he could observe small 
cascades sending over the rock Avails their waters of spray, 
resembling threads of silver in the distance ; and moie near 
a huge stone, high up the side, would project over the chan- 
nel, and from its top a mountain brook pour out upon the 
river its stream,.falling like mist, and serving as a gossamer 
screen through which vfistas beyond Avere imperfectly seen, 
tipped with the evanescent colors of the rainboAV. 

Wearied with the enchanting novelties on all sides, the 
Marquez ceased to regard them in his course, while a deli- 
cious languor came over him from the soft, cool breeze 
wafted along the water, amidst the rich perfume of the 
Avild vines and tropical gums. The roar of the cataract 


THE METROPOLITES. 


305 


behind, over which he had passed, was becoming indistinct 
in the distance. Trees and other vegetation were gradually 
growing more dense, indicative of a less rocky soil ; and the 
occasional openings at the sides, from which small valleys 
might be inferred, induced him to hope the dangers were no 
more. 

When the shades of evening began to creep up the sides 
of the mountain before him, he landed for the night. He 
drew on the mossy bank his frail but serviceable craft. His 
sack, containing the stores, ammunition, and clothing, upon 
examination proved safe from the water or other damage. 
Thus far, then, his vojage had been favorable, and with a 
light heart he set about preparing his evening meal, in anti- 
cipation of his arrangements for a bivouac. 

After he had eaten heartily with a hungry appetite of the 
simple provisions with which he was supplied, the Marquez 
looked around for poles to serve as props for his hammock. 
In the search, near a large rock, he thought he discovered 
some indications of a former exploration at the point. 
Stones seemed broken by a hammer, and pieces were found 
with their sharp edges visible when the earth was removed 
from them. Some trees grew inclining to the horizon, as 
though their roots had clung to yielding earth, which might 
be an artificial mound. 

Skirting the edge of a little valley, where the ground be- 
gan to ascend, and where the washings of the rains might 
disclose marks of former occupancy, his experienced eye was 
at length gratified with the sight of a cleft between two 
rocks that would solve his doubts. If man had ever been in 
this lonely spot, here was the path through which he came. 
The narrow pass was less than a yard in width, and might 
be the track of wild beasts on their way to slake their thirst. 


806 


THE METROPOLITES. 


In the course of centuries they, perhaps, wore it down, or 
even the rain rushing through would waste it away. He 
looked on the sides, and found fur and hair on the jagged 
points, and beyond the rock their footprints were fresh in the 
moist ground. Still undecided, he placed himself on his 
knees and removed some of the earth where the track of the 
animals was best defined. 

After digging for some minutes, his hatchet struck a hard 
substance beneath the soil. Carefully scooping out the earth, 
he brought forth a handful of small pebbles or pieces of 
stone half the size of his thumb. The Marquez examined 
these with much scrutiny, and returned to the water’s edge 
to wash them. He took from his pocket a microscope to 
subject them to a final test. Although nearly round in their 
form, still they were not smooth, as pebbles become by attri- 
tion in the action of water. Again he returned to the spot 
where they were extracted, to draw forth a second supply. 
The same experiments were repeated, with like results. 

The Marquez slowly yielded to the proof these pebbles 
j)resented that they had been placed there by human agency. 
But in order t() remove all doubts, he instituted further ex- 
cavations to the right and left without meeting with any 
specimens whatever. In digging, however, in front and rear 
of the excavation first made, he found an abundance of the 
same size and shape. A smile of satisfaction was upon his 
countenance, when he gave up further search. He returned 
to the bank and sat down upon the halzas^ to cast the small 
pebbles one by one into the placid pool at his feet. The 
river, however, was too deep at this point to send forth any 
return bubbles where they struck the bottom. For in this 
way the Marquez was accustomed to ascertain the soundings 
of streams. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


807 


The important discovery, however, he had just made, 
induced him to relinquish his plan of descending further along 
the river. He had found more than was hoped for, he had 
found a path leading up to the heights, and not only a path, 
hut a royal public road of the ancient inhabitants. In his 
youthful adventures in former searches for thrnostli^ he had 
seen roads of the ancients, which still remain in preservation 
wherever they, have been neglected or imknown to the con- 
querors. 

One of these royal avenues was now at the crevice between 
the rocks, and without further examination, he knew by ex- 
perience how, and of what it was constructed. Wlienever 
the native monarchs made conquest of a province, their first 
care was to establish through it a grand and royal road, 
called in the court language of the ancient empires an och~ 
pantli; not for the march of armies, or the movements of 
commerce, but for the transportation of tribute and the 
transmission of intelligence, by means of royal messengers 
running on foot. They were without domestic animals — 
beasts of burden were unknown. Everything was cariied on 
the backs of slaves. Each ochpantli was on an undeviating 
sti-aight line, or only deflected when an insurmountable 
obstacle intervened, an inaccessible mountain or precipitous 
harranca. Made of small broken stone immixed with earth, 
they were two feet in depth and the same in width. The 
ochpantlin were the slender cords which held together aii 
empire ; but the extreme length of these roads, hundreds of 
leagues in extent, rendered them frail ligaments against the 
inroads of civilized Europeans. 

Before sundown our adventurer had prepared his couch 
upon the balzas whereupon to pass the night. Taking a coil 
of hail* rope called a cabestro^ he placed it on the ground in a 


308 


THE- METROPOLITES. 


circle, completely surrounding the raft, serving as a sure 
protection against venomous or other reptiles, which will not 
crawl over its rough, jagged surface. Indeed, it may be well 
supposed that it was one of these which was used in ancient 
necromancy to guard the magic circle against the entrance 
of the serpent or spirit. His dog and the camp-fire would 
frighten animals that might approach. Thus protected, the 
jSlarquez soon sank into profound repose. 

In the morning, after due caution, he essayed the explora- 
tion of the ochpantli leading through the two rocks. The 
gromid was thickly studded with trees and vines ; but with 
his machete^ a long sharp wood-knife, he trimmed away the 
interlacing branches whenever they impeded his advance, 
until he was high enough above the valley to be free from 
such molestation. Having once ascertained the course pur- 
sued by the ochpantli^ he had no great difficulty in keeping 
on or near to its track ; and as he ascended the stony cliff, 
the way became more distinctly defined in the scanty vegeta- 
tion. 

After hours of toil he reached the summit, whence an 
unobstructed view opened up to him on all sides. The con- 
vent of the Hetiro^ as he anticipated, was within a short dis- 
tance of the place where he stood, situated on a beautiful 
but narrow plain, bounded by canadas and barrancas^ and 
inclosed with a high, white wall of light-colored stone. 
This wall was now the only obstacle to his entrance ; nor 
was it one which appeared formidable. Yet it would require 
of him a return to the river for ropes with which to essay its 
escalade. But first he made a careful examination of the 
points where an entrance could be most easily and secretly 
effected into the extensive inclosure, and the day was nearly 
spent before he had finished his survey. Returning to the 


THE METROPOLITES. 809 

river, he resolved to defer his enterprise till morning, as the 
Bim was now fast sinking in the west. 

But early next day he was up, and his final preparations 
made for the last eflTort to reach the young lady. Xow, how- 
ever, he laid aside his rough dress, appropriate only for the 
■woods and water. He re2)laced it with a rich suit, such as 
he wore in full costume at Santa Lucia, and such as he 
deemed appropriate for the presence into which he was about 
to enter. The weapons upon his person were concealed from 
view, except a small and well tried rapier at his side, that 
appeared more ornamental than aj^propriate for a desperate 
encounter. 

The wall was scaled without much difficulty, when the 
nobleman found himself within the grounds, but yet at a 
considerable distance from the deserted convent. Accus- 
tomed as he was to the artistic skill with which the gardens 
in Europe are embellished, he could not but pause to gaze in 
admiration on a scene wffiere every resource of art or wealth 
seemed exhausted to adorn an extensive space with every 
conceivable beauty, heightened as it was by the rapid and 
rich luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation. But he had 
not time to dwell on the prospect as he walked on at a 
rapid pace. Before him lay the old convent, divested of 
its gloomy monastic appearance by the recent improvements 
made on its outer walls and turrets. It seemed more like 
a’ modem structure, built according to some antique style, 
than a monkish retreat transformed to other and far different 
uses. 

Cautious in his approach as be drew near, he first made 
a complete circuit of the building, through the sheltering 
shrubbery, crossing in the way the broad, level avenue lead- 
ing down to the bridge at the barranca. He noted care- 


310 


THE METROPOLITES. 


fully the absence of all fresh horse tracks upon its smooth 
sand, from which he inferred no one had recently arrived at 
the convent. He then drew near, close to its walls, screening 
himself at times behind fountains or statues, in trellised 
walks or ai*bors, or between rows of flowers and roses, every- 
where in profusion. Believing himself still unseen, when 
within a few paces of the front entrance, he bounded rapidly 
across the open space intervening, to gain the steps under 
the shade of the outer vestibule. The corridor, under low 
arches, was paved with marble, and the dimly lighted but 
high hall which ran into the interior of the edifice appeared 
to have the same flooring, with walls of scagliola. 

Passing on further, he foimd himself in a circular apartment, 
in the centre of which was a fountain lighted by a dome of 
stained glass from above. Several passages from this rotunda 
radiated in different directions. He threw himself upon a 
divan to rest, for he felt fatigued, and to reflect upon his 
future movements. The sweet notes of a mocking-bird were 
heard distinctly in one of the rooms quite near. Soon after 
some person seemed to speak to it, but in words indistinct 
and unintelligible. Then again a clarm — the clarionet-bird 
— whistled some melodious bars from the opera of Ernani, 
and, after further coaxing, it warbled several more of Casta 
Diva. 

The Marquez rose and pushed open a door whence the 
sound seemed to proceed. But the saloon was untenanted, 
although the gorgeous paintings, yielding carpets, lace cur- 
tains, and other furniture, rich in all the wantonness of lavish 
luxury, indicated that it was one prej^ared for use. Through 
the drapery, however, at an opposite entrance, he could well 
imagine the occupant might be found further within. Walk- 
ing on, therefore, and pushing aside the light curtains at the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


811 


door, he paused in the second apartment, equally magnificent 
with the one he had passed. In the profusion of furniture, 
vases, paintings, statuary, and other splendid ornaments, his 
presence was unnoticed by the lady at the lattice, who was 
talking to the clarin. 

She was tall, of a beautiful figure, with blue eyes, a mild, 
animated sweetness of countenance, robed in a light, white, 
plain morning dress, while her dark brown hair fell flowing 
upon her shoulders. The lady was talking with some inter- 
est to the imprisoned bird, coaxing more music from the 
feathered warbler, while her fine, classic features were lighted 
up with a faint smile, as the fleeting excitement gave a gentle, 
roseate tint to her fair cheek. To the Marquez, with his 
Italian ideal of the beautiful, she seemed almost too divine in 
her loveliness to be mortal, as he stood in silence gazing on 
her graceful form and sweet face.* 

In turning from the lattice, she discovered the handsome 
nobleman in the dim light of the background. At first she 
was uncertain whether he was not one of the pictures upon 
the walls; but as her eyes became regulated to the shadows, 
she gazed upon him with apprehension and terror. Sinking 
upon a sofa, her cheeks lost all their color, and, breathing a 
deep sigh, her head drooped slowly upon the cushions. Her 
eyes were closed, seemingly in mental prayer, while a tremor 
on her lips indicated an inward agony of soul. 

The nobleman approached her respectfully, and, kneeling 
at her side, he took her cold hand in his. For an instant she 
opened her eyes to look steadily upon him ; but they once 
more closed, as she murmured to herself : “ In this bright 
world, so full of misery, must only the beautiful among mor- 
tals aid such deadly crimes 

“ Dear lady,” replied he, soothingly, “ I am incapable of 


312 


THE METROPOLITES. 


crime. Look upon me, uud perhaps you will learn to view 
me more kindly.” 

But she made no response in her sorrow, while he 
continued : “I have pitied you in your affliction, and I come 
to aid you.” 

A convulsive shudder came over her limbs, as she with- 
drew her hand to bury her face in the pillow. She gave utter- 
ance to some moaning sobs in her deep distress before she 
rose to regain her breath. 

“ It is a dream,” said she, “ horrid and unreal. I thought 
I had passed through worse than the blackest phantoms of the 
night ; but this is fiendish ; no human being could have de- 
vised sue!) a plan, fit only for a demon.” She wrung her 
hands in an agony of woe, while she rose to her feet from 
the sofa — to sink back again in her feebleness. 

“Dear lady, once more I beseech you to look upon me 
and listen. I have not come to increase your sufierings. I 
have come to have you fiy with me.” 

“ To fly whither, sir ? — to the ship, to be sold to the slaver, 
and then carried to the African coast, there to be bartered as 
merchandise to a black, brutal barbarian for slaves. Ho has 
threatened me with this often, and I was foolish enough to 
suppose him incapable of such an outrage. But you have, 
come at last, as lie threatened you would.” 

A swoon relieved her of fiirther consciousness of a fate so 
horrible. It was with much difficulty the Marquez could 
restore her breathing, or quicken the dormant faculties of 
life into renewed action. Even after she had recovered, he 
was at a loss how to renew the subject, lest, before he could 
explain, her convulsions would return. 

“ I have seen the kind Lulu in her puehlo^'^ said the Mar- 
quez, cautiously, in a gentle tone. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


313 


“What did she tell you?” exclaimed the lady, starting 
from her seat. 

“ To help you, dear lady ; and I promised.” 

“ Do you come fi’om her — from her, sir ?” 

“ I come from her ; and moreover, she has given me your 
letters as evidence that you are to trust me.” 

“ Lulu has given you my letters ?” cried she in terror and 
amazement. 

“ Yes, dear lady, your letters, which I will give to your 
mother in New York.” 

“ Why did that child trust the word of a slaver ?” exclaim- 
ed the lady, in great distress. 

“ I am no slaver, nor do I know aught of the detestable 
traffic.” 

“ Who then are you ?” cried she, almost in a frenzy. 

“ The Marquez de Las Cumbres, a Grandee of Spain, de la 
primera daseP 

“How came you here, where he suffers no one to ap- 
proach ?” 

“ I came without his pemiission, without his knowledge, by 
the perilous pass of yon Canada.” 

“ Without his permission ! It is death, certain, inevitable 
death ; fly while you may, and live if your intention were to 
save me,” implored the self-sacrificing creature in the gene- 
rosity of her heart. 

“I will save you, dear lady, if you will trust me, and follow 
my instructions.” 

“ It is too late, too late,” she replied, moui’nfully. “ I 
thank you for your noble effort ; but it is too late. The sla- 
ver comes to-day. I feel it. I know it now.” 

“ Do you then submit to your doom, dear lady, without 
one effort to free yourself?” 

14 


314 : 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ I submit only to force, to what is inevitable ; but if I fly 
with you now, before sundown, with the blood-hounds on 
our track, you will be captured and perish. Xo, no, my 
generous, unknown benefactor, this cannot be.” 

“ But would you not attempt to escape if I can assure you 
of my safety ?” 

“ Most wdlingly would I leap into the frightfid barranca if 
there were one chance that I could be free. I would brave the 
rushing waters of the yawning Canada, if it w^ere not certain 
destruction. I care not for life; but I dare not destroy 
myself; it is sinful in the sight of God, and I must submit to 
His aTvful wdll. I have prayed earnestly for death, and it will 
be a boon when it comes ; but I am forbidden to seek it.” 

“ Then it is not fear that restrains you ?” 

“ Fear ! Of death, I have no fear ; it is only man I dread, 
and his demon passions ; death is the only hope I have. 
Teach me where to find for myself an innocent grave, and I 
go with gladness.” 

“ Then you will fly with me wherever is any hope of an 
escape ?” again asked the nobleman. 

“ Let to-day pass aw ay in peace, and if I am here to-mor- 
row^ or hereafter, come for me, or send, and I wall go by day 
or night, by barranca or Canada. Only, I pray you, incur no 
risk of your life for me,” said the lady, sorrowfully, as she 
pitied in her gentle heart the handsome nobleman who she 
believed was rushing on to a certain sacrifice in his impulse 
to save her. 

“ Then, dear lady, I trust you will live to see many happy 
days in store for you,” taking her yielding hand and pressing 
it to his lips. 

“No more happiness for me in this world,” she sobbed. 
“ I pray only for one day to throw myself into my mother’s 


THE METROPOLITES. 


815 


arms, and as she parts the hair upon my brow, I may look 
into her sweet eyes and tell her that I am innocent, foully 
wronged. She will believe me, for she knows me incapable 
of deceit. Then to give one long, tender, last embrace to my 
little brother and little sister is all I ask before I die.” 

The plaintive sweetness of the lady’s voice while speaking 
brought tears into the eyes of the nobleman. But time was 
wanting for further intercourse. They heard the sound of 
approaching footsteps, when discovery would lead to danger 
and inevitable destruction to their hopes. With a hasty 
farewell the Marquez leaped lightly from the lattice upon the 
garden terrace below, and was lost amid the leaves and 
groves of this Elysian wilderness. . 


CHAPTER XXYH. 

The object of the nobleman having now been accomplished, 
after all the trials and dangers of his fearful voyage, he felt 
solicitous for the final success in the liberation of the dis- 
tressed lady. He had no further difficulties to apprehend 
except those incident to her escape. It did not seem possible 
that the royal oohpantli would abruptly terminate in a barraii- 
ca ; and he knew it led to level country, from whence he 
might return to Father Ansqlmo. Revolving various plans in 
his mind, he rambled on, regardless of his steps, till the lane 
he was pursuing suddenly ended. 

It was then for the first time he discovered he had in deep 
thought lost his way. Doubtful in which direction to turn, 
he drew near to a brawling fountain, where a sun-dial was 
placed by the ohl monks to ascertain the points in the hea- 


316 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Yens. Again he started, more confident of his course, little 
heeding surrounding objects, as he suj^posed he must ulti- 
mately reach the wall at the place of his entrance, although 
from the intricacy of the walks amid the winding labyrinths, 
it would easily have confused one less accustomed to tangled 
shrubbery. 

Passing leisurely over an open circle where several radiat- 
ing walks diverged, he was startled by a light tap upon the 
shoulder. Looking up, an unknown man stood before him. 
Ilis dress was clean but coarse, with heavy shoes and uncouth 
appearance. He had on a pair of wide white pantaloons, 
supported by a broad belt, with silver clasp, to which a pistol 
in a leathern case was suspended. Around his waist was a 
broad, ample, red silk sash. His blue cloth jacket was pro- 
fusely adorned with black trimming, which did not conceal a 
lieavy, coarse red flannel shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. 
His face was nearly lost in long, bushy, neglected whiskers, 
with an unshaven beard ; his hat was a coarse Panama. In 
stature he was much larger than the Marquez, and apparently 
his equal in strength. 

“A good day to you, senor,'’ said he, raising his hat with 
one of his large sun-burnt hands. 

The nobleman returned the salute without stopping. But 
the man had no intention to sufier his departure. 

“ I have lost my way through these bushes, in my road to 
the convent, and a thousand thanks to you if you will help 
me out of the difiiculty,” said he, with a rude, familiar tone. 

The Marquez pointed to the building shining in the dis- 
tance, and advised him to follow one of the main avenues. 
But still the man detained him with further questions, declar- 
ing that he had lost the path for want of a compass and would 
not find it without taking the correct bearings. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


317 


“ As you belong to this place,” said the stranger, “ you had 
better come with me to the convent. I have a little business 
up there which, if it turns out well, I don’t care to help you 
to a few doubloons to line your pockets.” 

The expression of the nobleman’s countenance indicated 
some surprise at this communication. 

“ Oh, you need not look astonished. I have arranged it all 
with Don IN'icolas. If I like the piece of frailty, I can have 
her for a hundred ounces, and I think I shall take her any- 
how. You see, the young Agara chief wants a pretty vrliite 
woman, and offers liberally in Mandingo slaves, young, 
healthy, and greasy with fat. So I cannot lose by the trade 
on a trial of her.” 

“I am afraid I cannot serve you,” the Marquez replied. 

“ Not help me ? Perhaps you are in the market, and want 
her for an assorted cargo.” 

“ I want nothing to do with you,” cried the nobleman, 
sternly. 

“Well then, homhre^ my man, I want a word with you. 
What are you doing here at the convent ?” asked the slaver, 
with much passion. 

The Marquez eyed him steadily, and then ordered him to 
pass on. But the slaver unbuttoned his pistol-cover as he 
remarked: “We will see who will order and who obey when 
I am aboard with a clear deck.” 

He drew forth his revolver ; but as he placed his fingers 
upon the lock, the rapier of the nobleman flashed in the sun, 
and at the same instant fell upon the hand of the man before 
he had time to aim his weapon. His grasp was palsied by 
the sudden blow, and the pistol fell to the ground, while he 
uttered a yell of rage and pain, with his eyes glaring like a 
mad bull upon his assailant. The pain, however, was momen- 


318 


THE METROPOLITES. 


tary, for he immediately displayed from under his red flannel 
shirt a heavy dagger.' With this he made a plunge at his 
antagonist, who parried it with much ease. 

They stood for a moment to look upon each other before 
renewing the deadly strife. Both were masters of their re- 
spective weapons, and in other matters fairly matched, ex- 
cept the blow upon the slaver’s liand had slightly disabled 
him in the free use of it. The Marquee, while cool, with 
nerves well braced, wished him to renew the attack, as he 
could more readily avail himself of the least indiscretion in 
his savage rage. But his skilful enemy knew the advantage 
of the defensive, in which he might perhaps grasp the rapier 
or bi-eak it. 

The slaver looked for a moment to the ground where the 
pistol lay, and at the same instant the rapier was within an 
inch of his throat ; but he warded off the lunge with a quick 
parry, while the nobleman, perceiving that he himself must 
follow up the attack thus renewed, took his position with all 
the precision of a common sporting encoimter. With his 
weapon at a poise, he made his foot, hand, and eye keep play 
in time, as he pushed the man with every trick known in the 
use of the small-sw^ord. 

Foiled in every attempt, however, the Marquez drew back 
to recover his wind, for the vigorous attack had much exhausted 
his breath. His adversary, perceiving this, and supposing 
the Marquez was about to quit the field to escape through 
the shrubbery, for an instant forgot his cunning in his boil- 
ing passion, and made a forward movement. A second rap 
across the knuckles soon taught him the folly of his rashness, 
as he withdrew to his former defence. But the nobleman, in 
following up his hit, soon observed that the poniard was not 
held with the former strong grip by his opponent. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


319 


The last blow had weakened the fingers of the slaver, 
which the Marquez now turned to his profit by several skil- 
ful plunges, one of them bringing blood from the slaver’s 
wrist. The warm stream trickled down to the handle of the 
dagger, accelerated in its flow by the constant use of the 
hand in warding off the rapier’s point. In this slimy fluid 
the short weapon could not be held or wielded with much 
tenacity, as the handle slipped by the pressure of the fingers 
upon it, and the diminisliing strength of the defence was quite 
perceptible. 

Again the slaver cast his eyes upon the revolver at his 
opponent’s feet, which indicated his intention to seize it if 
possible. The Marquez, by a feint, encouraged him in the at- 
tempt ; but when least expecting it, the slaver threw up his 
left hand to ward off the rapier; at the same instant, hurling 
his dirk at the nobleman’s head, he rushed forward to pick 
up the pistol. Had not the slaver’s hand been weakened, the 
dagger wmuld have taken effect in the face of his enemy ; 
but its aim, though well directed, was wanting in strength 
and steadiness. The heavy weapon flew swift, close to his 
ear, and as the slaver bent forward to grasp the revolver, the 
Marquez passed the keen blade of his weapon through his 
side thus exposed for an instant defenceless. 

The wounded man uttering a deep groan, as the weapon 
was withdrawn, fell over on his back, with his eyes fixed on 
his opponent. Soon a film came over the slaver’s vision, blood 
oozed from his mouth, his fists and teeth clenched, a convul- 
sive tremor shook his rigid limbs, and, with a dying effort 
turning his face to the ground, his spirit fled. He had gone 
to answer at a higher tribunal for his crimes, where the sonls 
of many human beings, murdered by his nefarious trafiic, 
would bear witness on his final audit ; for he had sent them, 


820 


THE METROPOLITE3. 


men, women and children, youths and maidens, before him to 
a})peal from man to the vengeance of Heaven. 

Tiie ]Marquez stood over the dead body of his formidable 
antagonist, to spurn it with his foot. Disgust and contempt 
were marked upon his lineaments as he withdrew to a bubbling 
fountain near by to wash the stixins of the recent conflict from 
his person, and wiping well the drops of gore from the trusty 
rapier, to replace it in the scabbard. This being done, he re- 
tui-ned to the dead slaver, to dispose of the corpse so as 
to leave no trace of his presence in the gardens. Unwind- 
ing the heavy folds of the wide silk sash from the lifeless 
mass, he placed it imder the unresisting arms, and dragged 
the body to the wall which skirted the edge of the barranca. 
By means of the rope the Marquez had brought to efiect an 
entrance, he elevated the burden to the top of the in closure, 
and from thence pushed it ofi* with a felon’s burial into the 
deep abyss below, whence a low rumbling sound returned 
as a funereal waU over the slaver’s grave of bleaching bones. 
The gloomy vultures, those hideous sopolotes^ soon threw dark 
shadows over the spot, as they flapped their broad black wings 
in expectation of a rich banquet, and, slowly sailing down on 
their glossy raven plumes into the bottom of the barranca., 
they seemed to be sable ministers of Satan, summoned to a 
subterranean orgy over a choice spirit returning to his last 
home. 

Two evenings thereafter the Father Anselmo was rejoiced 
to welcome the return on foot of his dear Miguelito, whom he 
received as one risen from the dead. The Marquez related to 
the generous cura all of his adventures, save those met within 
the garden walls of the Retiro. He never alluded to the lady 
or the slaver. He spoke only of his discoveries in the Cana- 
da and ochpantliy the ancient road that traversed barrancas 


THE METROPOLITES. 


821 


and caiiadas. They talked long and learnedly of thmostli 
treasure which might he found in this newly discovered 
region, “and they resolved upon its further exploration. 

It was the secret wish of the nobleman that Anselmo 
would traverse the Aztec path to become familiar with the 
route the young lady could take when making her escape. 
He intended the cura should assist ; and that he might be- 
come accustomed to the localities, he led Anselmo a few days 
thereafter close under the wall where he had entered the 
grounds. A group of tamarind trees grew within, where the 
vanilla vines clung to the lower branches, where their pen- 
dent beans were easily recognised, and where the dense 
shrubbery prevented observation. With their hatchets they 
readily constructed ladders and placed them against the 
wall. 

Father Anselmo traversed the inclosure with him without 
fear of discovery at this wild point, more than half a league 
in distance from the convent. The Marquez had led him on 
in expectation of new discoveries in what seemed to him 
deserted fields of the old monks. But when they reached a 
grassy knoll whence the porcelain dome of the building, 
resplendent in the sun, was distinctly visible, he related to 
the cura the nefarious purposes to which it was now appro- 
priated. The nobleman dwelt but lightly on the topic, as 
one which was no affair of his. But he knew he had sajd 
enough to awaken all the tender sympathies of the Father 
Anselmo, who in his simple, generous heart, was horror- 
stricken with the tale of outrage and deadly sin. 

It was now idle to invite the cura^s attention to other 
topics when they were once more beyond the walls of the 
gardens. The legend of the abducted lady was too vividly 
upon his mind for other subjects to interest him. In this 

15 * 


822 


THE METROPOLITES. 


mood they returned to Anselmo’s liome, having explored 
every narrow pass amid these unknown cailadas^ barrancas^ 
and mountains. Father Anselmo proposed tlie rescue of the 
young lady at once, without weighing the difficulties of suc- 
cess, and the dangers, especially to her, of a failure. The 
Marquez was more cautious, or, as Anselmo believed, more 
cold in undertaking the enterprise. But he pointed out to 
the cicra so many obstacles to be overcome that Anselmo 
was willing to follow his lead in the matter, provided only 
he would lend his aid. 

The roads were few in number which ladies could traverse, 
leading to the further side of the snowy sierra. These could 
be easily guarded by Sabina’s minions, and a recapture 
effected unless they overcame the passes before he was aware 
of the flight. The mules could not make the journey with 
her under several days’ continuous travel, and in that time 
Sabina could send his swift agents to every point. For these 
reasons his Miguelito asked time to reflect, to which the im- 
patient cura reluctantly consented. 

The purpose of the Marquez was now to return to the coal- 
pits of the carboneros^ on the path to the volcan^ at whose 
hacals or huts he expected letters from the credulous valet 
Domingo. Olivera could excuse the superstitious fears of 
his servant in consideration of the copious details communi- 
cated in writing. In truth, Domingo’s cowardice made him 
at all times on the watch for information ; and thus, even 
trivial circumstances were treasured up as important facts. 

On arriving at the coal-pits he was not disappointed in a 
voluminous correspondence from Domingo. He informed his 
master, among other matters, that Don Nicolas was expecting 
his return before he would go, at the end of a week, down 
to the ensenada on the coast. 


tup: mp:tropolites. 


323 


This was important information ; for in the absence of 
Sabina, the rescue could be made in safety. He therefore 
wrote to Father Anselmo, apprising him of this good news, 
and of the propitious time approaching for the accomplish- 
ment of their plan. He further stated that Lulu had gone 
to the Retiro, acting under his instructions. But, imfortu- 
nately, this missive never reached its destination. The coreo^ 
or foot-messenger by whom it was sent, lost it from his hat 
while fording a stream ; and, fearful of some dire consequences, 
for a fault the enormity of which he could not in his igno- 
rance estimate, he deserted to his p.iehlo^ without seeing or 
sending any message of the mishap to Anselmo. 

The good cura^ in the meantime, had gone in search of 
thmostU to the Canada of Esqueletos. He loitered near to 
the hosque of the taiaarindos^ under the walls, and several 
times found himself clinibing the ladders and roaming among 
the beautiful grounds in the spacious gardens. In one of 
these adventures he encountered Lulu, to whom h^ was well 
known ; for her pueblo of Tehuancingo lay within his 
former parish. Lulu told him all she knew of the lady ; and, 
finding him interested in her fate, promised him an interview 
with her. Nor was this difficult to accomplish, as the lady 
herself was equally anxious to see one who sympathized with 
her misery, and who, perhaps, might prove serviceable. 
They therefore met in the gardens, near the tamarindos^ 
where the lady could walk without fatigue, and where was 
no danger of a surprise. It was, moreover, thought advisable 
there to meet, as it taught her the way to the place when 
she must leave the inclosure. 

In these interviews the distress of the lady and her tale of 
woe had such an effect upon Father Anselmo, that, in his 
excited feelings of pity and indignation, he forgot his promise 


324 


THE METROPOLITES. 


to the Marquez to leave all to his direction. It was therefore 
agreed she should fly so soon as Anselmo could procure ani- 
mals and suitable arrieros to aid the escape. For this purpose 
he left the gardens by the ochpantli^ and returned to his 
curacy. In one day he prepared everything to hasten back 
to the tamarindos. A walk of two leagues had to be under- 
taken by the lady before the road was practicable for ani- 
mals. But in her desire to escape, she could have endured a 
much longer journey on foot. 

Father Anselmo wrote to the Marquez in the sierra, that 
on the following morning the escape would be made. Send- 
ing the letter by a trusty messenger, the nobleman received it 
three days thereafter. Although greatly surprised at this 
rash movement, it was now too late to retrieve the false step 
once taken. He therefore resolved to aid the plans he had 
not counselled. By taking some unfrequented paths through 
the mountains he could only hope on the next evening to fall 
on the road proposed by them to be travelled. Regretting 
the haste of Anselmo, while he could not blame him for his 
zeal, the Marquez, now as it was sun-down, made all his pre- 
parations for leaving at early dawn. 

In the meanwhile Father Anselmo withdrew the lady from 
the Retiro in company vvith Lulu, and had conducted her on 
foot over the rugged part of the Aztec road. 

“ Here let us repose for a few hours, after your fatiguing 
walk, my child,” said the good Father Anselmo, as he sat on 
a mossy rock at the side of the lady, under the shade of some 
wild lemon trees, on the declivity of a mountain, where a 
small rivulet ran with its cooling waters at their feet. “ Here 
you may rest in safety till the shades of evening fall upon 
our path, when we will pursue our flight.” 

“But, good Father,” murmm’ed the lady, “Ido not feel 


THE me:tropolites. 


325 


fatigue ; this stream has refreshed me, and I pray you, there- 
fore, go on till nightfall.” 

“Much better, my child, that you take a siesta at this 
hour, and when the sun throws long shadows to the east we 
will then once more be upon the road.’’ 

Lulu pressed the hand of her mistress, adding, in a soft 
tone : “ The good padre speaks well. Be counselled by the 
good Father ; he knows best.” 

“ If you think so, Imlucita mia^ I will obey ; but I am 
afraid that in my impatience I uill be unable to shut my 
eyes in sleep at this inviting spot.” 

The little Dolores was drooping from the over-excitement 
of the day, with the warm walk at the harranca. Her eyes 
closed heavily, and she w^s in the land of dreams. But the 
lady felt too vividly the novelty of her situation to think of 
rest. She reclined, however, upon a pile of blankets and 
shawls to please the good Anselmo, who watched over her 
with tender solicitude. Gradually a feeling of languor crept 
over her delicate limbs, and in a few minutes she had sunk 
Into a deep sleep. 

When the lady awoke, the sun had long passed the meri- 
dian. Lulu was standing at her side with some wild fruit. 
“ Eat this, dear lady, before we proceed — before you proceed 
further, and I trust you will be able to endure the evening’s 
travel.” 

“ Thank you, my kind one,” she answered, in a gentle tone, 
taking the basket from her hand. “ When our dangers are 
past, Lulucita, I will repay you for your love to me. I will 
tell you fairy tales and sing you wild songs ; not such as I 
sang at the Retiro. I will tell you of my sweet home, where 
I am going once more, and of my mother, and little brother, 
and dear little sister. And, Lulu, you must go with me. 


326 


THE METROPOLITES. 


My dear mother must see you, to bless you, and my little 
sister must kiss you for your loving kindness to me in my 
sad distress.” 

The eyes of Lulu sparkled with delight at the proposal. 
“ And Lulucita, just now I saw my dear mother in my dream, 
which has made me so joyous. 'She was smiling once more 
as she used to smile when I lay in her lap. I will see her 
again, Lulu cara mia^ and then she will weep tears of joy 
that I have come back to her.” 

Lulu nestled by her side, and entre.ated her not to think 
of what had happened, as she kissed her hand tenderly. 

“ But, Lulu mia^ I must think of my mother, since she now 
smiled sweetly on me in my delicious sleep. I have not seen 
her do that, in my dreams, for many a day. Yet here come 
the mules, and we must go from this lovely place.” 

Now they were all mounted to pursue their way along 
a small, uninhabited valley, wuth mountains on either side. 
The tall trees shaded the ground, free from underwood, and 
the branches, interlocking high above their heads, formed 
Gothic sylvan arches, through which they could see far before 
them in the opening glades. The cool breeze of the evening, 
perfumed with scent of the balsam bark and copal wood, 
contributed to the lady’s animation, as she talked to Lulu or 
listened to Father Anselrao, or watched in pensive silence 
the flight of the brown woodcock, or the i-apid movements 
on its brilliant wings of the golden humming-bird, and the 
graceful flutter of immense butterflies at her feet. 

“ I am afraid, good Father, it will be dark before we reach 
the ranche.you spoke of. What then ; are we to sleep in this 
pretty valley till morning ?” 

“ It will soon be nightfall, dear lady. But then we will 
wait till moonrise, and pursue our road by its light.” 


THE METRO POLITES. 327 

“ How deliglitful it will be to see so many strange sights 
in the imperfect shadowg of the night !” 

“ You can see nothing distinctly in the moon’s rays, my 
child ; and although cool and pleasant, yet the road is dull and 
fatiguing.” 

“ I should think not, Father Anselmo ; for if you cannot 
see objects perfectly in the moonlight, still you can imagine 
you see a thousand much more enchanting than any sights in 
daytime. Then you can play so many pranks with your 
nerves ; whisper to them that yonder stands, by that fallen 
tree, a wolf, or coyote^ or a mountain leopard, waiting to 
spiing upon you, and your nerves will almost push you from 
your saddle. You see yon vine dangling from the tree ? 
That may be the bones of a murdered man, and the white 
stone beneath is his ghost, and then your nerves catch hold 
of your hair to break a bonnet-string or choke you.” 

“rfye Maria,, par el Amor de I-e-susP' exclaimed Lulu, 
crossing herself, in a mental prayer. Dear lady, do not talk 
so ; for fantasma might come, and then what would you 
do, when you have no image of the virgin, nor cross, and can 
say neither are nor credo to hel]) you ?” The frightened girl, 
afraid to look round, sought the side of the priest for spiritual 
safety. 

Lulucita,, pohracitaP"* exclaimed the lady, mournfully. 
“ I only wish I had your belief in the return of an espiritu 
to earth again. Then I would be happy in the hope of visit- 
ing those dear to me at my home.” Tears came fast into her 
eyes, and it was with much difficulty she suppressed a sob. 
But her emotion was not observed ; for at that instant the 
arrieros halted in front to wait for the moonrise, and, dis- 
mounting, helped the lady to the ground. 

The last streak of light of departing day was only visible 


328 


THE METROPOLITES. 


on the highest peaks of the mountains, when Padre Anselmo 
and Lulu sank to their knees in prayer, for it was the hour 
of the oracion ; and when they closed their devotions with a 
vesper hymn to the Virgin, the muleteers added their deep 
tones in fine Iiarmony, while the lady, thankful to Providence 
for His mercies tlirough the day, joined her exquisite voice to 
enrich the melodious anthem. 

The animals were led to the crystal stream to drink, while 
Father Anselmo, collecting the woollen scrapes and thick 
shawls, prepared a soft couch for the lady. Lulu nestled at 
her feet, and perceiving the mournful sadness of her voice, 
kissed the lady’s hand in silence, striving in vain to lead off 
her thoughts Irom gloomy forebodings. “ Dear lady, look up, 
and tell me one of the pretty legends you promised ; or if you 
do not wish to speak, I will sing for you, or take down your 
hair to braid it once more. When the moon rises the night 
will be lovely. Then I will frighten you, dear lady, with the 
owl hooting in the hollow tree, the bat flying near your head ; 
the chifla^ the watcher-bird, whistling like a man calling; 
and the fire-flies flitting across the road in front, each of 
which you will be sure is some one with a light in his hand. 
But here are the cocuyos now,” and she ran to the bushes, 
bringing back a handful of those large bugs with heads phos- 
phorescent. 

Lulu placed an image of the virgin at the root of a tree, 
and on top of the picture her ebony cross. Around these in 
half-circle she fastened the illumined beetles, till the sacred 
objects were invested in almost a blaze of light. “ Look, dear 
lady, at the glory above the cross, how brightly it shines like 
an altar with holy candles !” said Lulu, clapping her hands. 

The lady smiled sweetly at the effort of the innocent girl to 
amuse her, while she drew from the folds of her dress some 


THE METEOPOLITES. 829 

lines of poetry which once had pleased her in her prison, to 
read them again by the phosphoric lights. 

“ Two are enough for reading,” said Lulu, throwing them 
into the lady’s lap for her to peruse the print with that limit- 
ed number. Thus the kind-hearted girl endeavored to divert 
her from brooding over her sorrows till the moon rose in the 
valley, when they once more resumed their journey. 


CHAPTER XXVm. 

When the Marquez arrived at the pueblo^ on the road 
through which the fugitives must travel on the direct way to 
the passes of the sierra, he was accosted before dismounting 
by a peon in the dress of an arriero or muleteer. “ I have 
been looking for you, senor,” said the man, taking off his 
sombrero and bowing low. 

“ For what purpose, hombr'e 

“They went through here yesterday; my brother, Diego, 
is an arriero with them. He told me to watch your coming, 
to let you know. But the cura did not come.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Some one in a pueblo was dying, and he had to leave 
them to attend the death-bed with the Bios. But Diego, my 
brother, knows all the by-roads, and will conduct them 
safely.” 

“ Thank you,” exclaimed the nobleman, tossing him a silver 
peso., and put spurs to his horse, riding off in hot pursuit. 

The man caught the coin before it fell, and, looking at the 
precious metal for a moment, smiled as he quoted the proverb. 


330 


THE METROPOL1TE3. 


“ ‘ Where such fruit fall, the tree must be near.’ I will try 
if I cannot pick up a hat-full.” So saying, he unloosed his 
spirited horse, hitched near the spot, and rode after the 
Marquez. But he soon turned into a by-path which lessened 
the distance, and when he entered the road again he was up 
with the nobleman. Although both were at full gallop, the 
arriero could not resist displaying the points of his animal by 
some caricols and leaps, which he was certain must be ad- 
mired. Then raising his sombrero gracefully, he said : “ I 
hope you will permit me to seiwe you. I know every path in 
the mountains. My name is Jose — at your disposition, 
sehor.” Content with an approving nod, they rode on at the 
same fuiious gait ; nor did they draw rein till some rocky 
ground required more caution in passing. 

“ Would the seiior amo permit me to point out a shorter 
cut where we need not blow our horses over the stones ?” 
said Jose, most humbly. Perceiving no objection, he leaped 
his animal over a pile of prostrate cactus, of which a hedge 
fence was made, and the Marquez following, they rode 
through level fields in the direction of o, jnieblo in the dis- 
tance. When they had travelled for an hour, in silence, the 
nobleman drew rein, and made a signal to the man to slacken 
his pace, as he inquired : “ Do you intend, Jose, that we shall 
rest for the night at this pueblo V' 

“ It is full of robbers,” replied the new servant who had 
just been hired on horseback at a gallop. “ It is full of rob- 
bers, senor arno. A village is beyond.” 

Again they were at full speed through the fields, and when 
they arrived at the outskirts of the pueblo^ the sun was still 
an hour above the horizon. But no signal came from the 
master to hold up as he galloped through the street. When it 
was passed the Marquez urged on their steeds, with the foam 


THE METROPOLITES. 


831 


dropping from their bits and flanks. The servant looked for 
a nod from the nobleman, who still pressed the spurs in the 
bloody sides of his horse, and Jose was forced to follow in the 
same headlong race. 

When the village was reached to which Jos4 had directed 
his attention, the Marquez inquired how far it was to the next 
puehlo beyond, and Jose trembled lest he should order another 
ride before a final halt. On an assurance, however, tliat no- 
thing would be gained by travelling in the dark, the nobleman 
reluctantly dismounted. While Jose was stripping the reek- 
ing animals of their heavy saddles, a peon approached to 
assist him, patting the horses with his hand and holding the 
bridles, as the girths were being loosed. “Let me help 
you with that buckle,” said he to Jose, and bending down, 
whispered: “ Be on your guard. You are watched. I have 
a message from your brother Diego.” 

The servant unbuckled the girth and removed the saddle 
without any recognition of the peonies services, although he 
held the bridles till Jose had adjusted the halters to the necks 
of tlie animals. Throwing one of the ropes to peon^ he 
asked him to walk the horse up and down the street to cool 
him, and at the same time led the other himself. When they 
had gained a spot free from observation, the peon informed 
him that he had met Diego at sunrise on a lower road lead- 
ing to a well known pass, more difficult to traverse, but a much 
shorter route across the sierra. He had gone by that road 
because all the others were by this time watched. He had 
been sent by Diego to inform Father Anselmo, who was com- 
ing by thisy>wc5/o. 

“ And all this is true, Pepe,” said Jos4 to they>eow, “ on the 
word of a brother arriero.''* 

“ On the word of a brother arriero^'* answered Pepe ; “ and 


332 


THE METROPOLITES. 


they will watch you, Jose, knowing you to be the brother of 
Diego.” 

“ What then do you advise, Pepe ?” 

“ Remove everything after dark beyond the arroyo^ which 
flows over the rocks at the paso. They will think your 
horses have been sent to the coral / the saddles can be carried 
secretly. Walk down then before moonrise, and I will meet 
you.” 

At the appointed time the Marquez was at the waters of 
the arroyo, Pepe was there with a guide to pilot them imlil 
daylight to the lower road. “ Adios said the Mar- 

quez, dropping some silver into the honest fellow’s hand as he 
touched Ms horse with a spur. 

At every puehlo through which they passed after sunrise 
Jos6 received some message left behind by Diego. Nor were 
these communications, though verbal, to be distrusted. Mule- 
teers are proverbial for their honesty, and in their perilous 
profession a sense of honor and of confidence has grown up 
towards each other, which often insures safety amidst the 
imminent dangers of the road. The word of an arriero is 
sacred. But in this instance they all felt an interest in Diego’s 
success, as it was rightly supposed he would receive not only 
good pay, but a gratijicacion besides. 

They assured Jose the road was not watched above at the 
passes, and the Marquez rode on leisurely in expectation that 
all was well. He had resolved to sleep that night beyond 
the most remote cumbre or height, and thus place himself 
between the lady and danger. As they approached a large 
open space covered with grass, called the Uano grande^ Jose 
cried to him that robbers were in sight in advance. Five 
horsemen immediately occupied the road in front, well 
mounted and armed, with their lance-points gleaming in the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


883 


sun, and their handarolas^ little, red, swallow-tailed flags, 
flying in the breeze. They beckoned to the Marquez not to 
advance. 

He checked his horse at the summons, and prepared for 
an encounter, feeling his rapier was in its place, and the 
caps properly on his revolver. Turning quietly to Jose, he 
said : “ Go forward and tell the captain the INIarquez de Las 
Cumbres wishes to hold a parley with him, pundonor ” — on 
his word of honor. 

Jose, drawing his sword and placing his sombrero on the 
point held aloft as a signal of truce, rode forward in full con- 
fidence. He gave his message to the chief, who, having an 
assurance pundonor^ returned with Jose. With a thousand 
bows and compliments he informed the Marquez it was only 
with great regret he had to relieve him of his purse and 
whatever jewels he might have about his person, keeping his 
spirited charger in the meanwhile in perpetual prancing mo- 
tion near the nobleman. 

'-'‘Senor Capitan Don Pablo^'' replied the Marquez, for he 
recognised the famous bandit, ^'■Senor Capitan^ I, will deal 
fairly with you, as I am in too much haste to-day to waste 
precious hours in an unprofitable battle with your company. 
How much do you demand ?” 

Hon Pablo, not disconcerted by the coolness with which 
the question was put, caused his animal to perform a cari- 
col^ or passage, which brought him close to the Marquez, to 
reply in a soft, deferential tone, as though asking a favor : 
“ Twenty ounces, senor Marquez,” while the robber’s horse 
leaped sideways to the further edge of the road. 

The nobleman shook his head in dissent to this proposition. 
“ I am afraid, Hon Pablo, you will find but few travelling 
with twenty gold ounces in their pockets.” 


384 : 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ If it is at all inconvenient to Ms excellency, we will wait 
upon him at Santa Ineis for the amount. His word is suffi- 
cient ; all the world knows it.” 

The Marquez extended his hand to the bandit in amity, 
which Don Pablo seized and shook with much satisfaction. 
Then making a signal to his men, they immediately came up. 

“And now, Don Pablo, I want some information. Tell 
me is the pass above at Apantepec watched or guarded 
to-day ?” 

“ It is, your excellency, by a party waiting to capture a 
lady.” 

“ Who else is upon the road, seiior Gapitan .^” 

“ Don Nicolas, of Santa Lucia, is now ten leagues in ad- 
vance of your excellency, riding with, the Gabeza Negra at a 
loose rein.” 

“ Their numbers are formidable,” exclaimed the nobleman ; 
when, with a sudden thought, he turned to the bandit. 
“ Will you join in her rescue for fifty ounces ?” 

“ It would be an honor,” exclaimed all the robbers, “ to 
serve under the banner of Las Cumbres.” 

“ Adelante /” cried the Marquez, plunging the spurs into 
his horse’s fianks. Adelante P'' they all responded. “On- 
ward, onward!” cried the cavalcade, as a cloud of dust 
marked their rapid fiight. They rode with furious speed 
through a pueblo^ scattering right and left a procecion of 
priests bearing the host to a dying sinner. At a hamlet of 
beggars, some without arms, some without legs, without 
eyes, some with heads larger than their bodies, some bent 
double with disease, some with senile decrepitude, some 
infant cripples, some covered with sores, some with limbs 
swollen to elephantine proportions, some shrunk to mummies ; 
and all whining “^or el amor de JDios^ for the love of God, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


835 


charity.” The cavalcade rode on the leper os^ rode down the 
whole tribe of Lazarus, regardless alike of their begging in- 
vocations as they approached, and their clamorous impreca- 
tions as they left them behind, with the cry of “ ad-e-lan-te 
They leaped a ford at a bound — “ adelante ! ” 

They rode by the ever open church-door without touching 
their hats ; in passing the wayside cross they uttered no 
ora pro nobis for the departed soul. They made no holy 
sign in sight of the tombs in the campo santo ; they asked 
no blessing from the hermit under the rock ; nor did they 
leave him alms. Ad-edan-te /” was their only cry ; '"'‘adelante /” 
as they spurred on ; “ adelante /” as they gained the hill-top ; 
“ adelante splashing through the brook below. The long 
train of carga mules, each tied to the tail of the one preceding, 
strung out in single file, turned from 4:he i*oad at the sound 
of “ adelante P"* The tlacatillas — peoTis carrying burdens on 
their backs — saw the rolling cloud of dust advancing, and at 
the shout of “ adelante P^ stepped aside in wonder, as the 
armed horsemen furiously swept along. 

The high crest of Apantepec was gained ; their lances 
couched, they rushed forward, the Marquez leading with 
drawn sword flashing in the sun. But they sfopped short in 
silent amazement. The bleak spot was vacant ; the cold, 
piercing wind blowing from the volcan was only heard in a 
moaning wail among the tall pine-trees. Not a sign of 
animation was visible. Where they anticipated the deadly 
strife they found a solitude. The bandits walked their horses 
in every direction to discover some marks of foot-prints, and 
perhaps of violence. But no tracks of mules going forward 
were observed. It was evident the lady with her attendants 
had not passed. 

The Marquez was at a loss for a solution of the mystery. 


336 


THE METROPOLITES. 


He dismounted to compose his thoughts, leaning his back 
against a high clay bank through which the road was cut. 
“ Can nothing be found hereabout,” muttered he, “ to 
dispel this horrible uncertainty, worse than the most fatal 
truth ?” 

Slowly a long, shrivelled bone of a skeleton arm was pro- 
truded from the earth- wall at his side, and the feminine whis- 
per of a beggar’s supplication, el amor de Dios, senor 
amo caridad, caridad'^'^ — charity, charity, for the love of 
God, in the name of the Virgin and all the saints hi heaven, 
martyrs in our Saviour’s bosom ; por el amor de Dios, for 
the sake of the Father, Son, and JSspiritu Santo. 

The Marquez on turning roimd perceived through a small 
aperture a miniature chapel or oratory excavated in the yield- 
ing clay, the further extremity within being adorned with 
mountain flowers, and lighted with burning candles before 
the holy image. 

“ What is this ?” he asked of Don Pablo, who at the mo- 
ment came up. 

“ It is the shrine of Our Lady, the holy Virgin of Apante- 
pec, and there is the old mother of charity. Sister Teresa, 
once more on the mountains with her remedios for muleteers. 
I thought she was dead long ago,” answered the robber. 
Then turning to the toothless hag gracefully, he removed his 
sombrero in a low salutation, as he exclaimed, in a whining 
voice, intended no doubt for seraphic sweetness: “Your 
blessing, mamacita 7nia, my dear mamma, all the an'i&ros 
pray for you bringing them salves for theii’ wounds and herbs 
for their fevers.” 

Sister Teresa, however, with outstretched skinny arm and 
with closed eyes, he'eded him not in her drone for charit)^ — 
'‘'•por el amor de Dios y todos los santos, caridad, caridad.^'^ 


THE METROrOLITES. 


337 


“ Give her some money,” whispered the robber. “ She is 
the most knowing of the sisterhood among the mothers of 
charity. She can tell you all about the lady.” 

Instantly the Marquez filled her fleshless fingers with small 
silver coin, when the old mm, opening her eyes, worked her 
shrunken gums in frightful satisfaction. 

“ I know^ seuor, your purpose,” said she. “ Diego crossed 
the cumbre by the old fort, a path practicable only to few. 
He is now on his way to Tehuancingo.” 

“ But where is Don Nicolas, mamacita eagerly inquired 
the robber. 

“ Santa Lucia and the Caheza are in pursuit on this road,” 
replied the mother, closing her eyes and crossing herself at 
the sinful thought of Sabina, whose name she would not 
utter. 

The Marquez leaped on his horse at this information, and 
was once more in headlong speed down the mountain. Die- 
go had been apprised by Teresa herself that the pass of Apaii- 
tepec was closed against him, as she sat at the roadside 
awaiting his approach. He therefore turned to the right to 
climb through rocks on the brow of a precipice, where the 
least tripping of a mule would have thrown the lady lifeless 
into the yawning gulph a thousand feet below. The peiilous 
path was, however, safely tlireaded by the sure-footed ani- 
mals. 

Diego hailed with joy the open ground beyond, as he hur- 
ried along, looking down in front to the pleasant valleys 
where they would find safety and repose. He avoided enter- 
ing the main road, but followed a mountain footpath which 
ran along the stream leading down to Tehuancingo. 

When Lulu pointed out to the lady the boundary marks of 
the conimimity lands of the piishlo^ her heart leaped for joy to 


338 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


think she was drawing near to the point where her perils 
would end. She was now within a league of the village, and 
the road was btecoming broader on the bank of the stream 
which rippled its deep waves at their feet. But looking for- 
ward, two shadows fell on the way before her, and the next 
instant the forms of Sabina and his hideous familiar the 
Cdbeza^ behind his master, confronted them. 

Lulu gave a scream of terror, and fell from her mule. The 
arrieros fled for safety into the thicket on the river bank. 
The lady herself, dropping her reins, turned her eyes to 
heaven, imploring pity in her manifold sufferings. She 
found her way to the ground, and on her knees poured forth her 
feelings of woe in prayer. Sabina, dismounting, with folded 
anns, stood before her. “ And you would escape me ?” said he, 
with cold malignity. “ That is now impossible. You 
must return once more to the convent to prepare for a sea 
voyage.” 

The lady made no reply. “ Will you go without force ?” 
asked Sabina. But no answer came from her. “ Will you 
go willingly, I ask you again ?” with his lips compressed over 
his closed teeth. 

“ Sooner would I go to my grave,” said she, weeping. 

“ I ask you again, will you go ?” he exclaimed, with fury, 
as Lulu crept to her side. The lady clasped her hands, and 
with eyes upturned, murmured : “Father in heaven receive 
my soul !” as the dagger of Sabina flashed in the light, and 
w^as in a moment buried to the hilt in her unresisting bosom. 
Foaming at his mouth, he drew forth the weapon to repeat 
the blow. But his innocept victim had sunk into the arms of 
Lulu, with the blood streaming from her wound. The pale, 
hue of death came over her lovely coimtenance, and he saw 
his aim had been mortal. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


889 


Once more he folded his arms, while she openea her inno- 
cent eyes to gaze on the evening sunlight creeping silently up 
the side of the mountain. A wan smile came over her marble 
features, as she murmured : “ Beautiful — all beautiful ; and 
yet so full of misery. Father in heaven, merciful thou art 
for granting my prayer at last. I go to a better world — to 
my mother — mother !” Here she gave a piercing scream of 
agony at the thought of her absent parent, and the death- 
rattle came into her throat. Lulu laid her gently on the 
mossy bank and slowly closed her eyes in death. Her breath- 
ing ceased so calmly the good girl could not tell when her 
spirit passed away. 

Lulu looked up at the scowling face of Sabina and mur- 
mured “ se acabo^'^ all is over. His eyes flashed fire at the 
remark, and with dagger once more drawn to despatch the 
girl, he rushed upon her with a yell : “You, too, you little 
'puta infernal^ shall not escape.” Lulu ran under a mule to 
avoid the blow, and fled to a rock overhanging the deep 
river. He seized her light dress, which, from its frail tex- 
ture, fell off in his savage grasp, leaving her naked to her 
short camisa as she leaped from the cliff into the rapid, roll- 
ing stream. 

He drew a revolver from his belt, but before he could aim 
it at her floating figure she perceived his intention and sank 
under the wave. When she rose to the surface the swift 
current had borne her round the vicelta, the bend above the 
alberca, where she was shut out from sight or further pursuit. 
Reaching the shore further down, she ran to. the pueblo, 
where the alarm was given, and as the mournful tambor 
sounded the signal of distress, the peons assembled in all 
haste at the unusual drum-beat. 

Slowly all tlie inhabitants came forth in procession with 


340 


THE METROPOLITES. 


the village priest at their head, as they moved along the 
winding-path that led to the late scene of bloodshed. The 
cura raised aloud his voice, chanting the hymn of “ Blessed 
are they who die in the Lord and the chorister youths 
joined in full responsive notes, while the villagers at inter- 
vals shouted a choral refrain, imparting a wild solemnity to 
the march. When they arrived at the fatal spot Sabina and 
his familiar were gone. The robbers in line with lances in 
rest pointing upward, and their small, red handarolas flap- 
ping in the breeze, sat motionless on their horses. The Mar- 
quez was kneeling over the inanimate form as he wiped 
away from her pallid lips the clotted blood welling up from 
her bosom. His hat lay on the ground, and deep grief was 
depicted on his expressive features. 

Branches of rosewood were hewn from neighboring trees, 
and the remains of the lovely lady, lovely even in death, 
were placed upon this sylvan bier. Again the procession 
renewed its onward tread back to \he piiehlo^ where the dead 
lady would be watched and wept over until consigned, on 
the following evening, to the tomb. The good Father 
Anselmo arrived the next morning soon after sunrise. 

When the last ray of the setting sun was gone, when 
twilight had melted into the deep shadows of night, the 
mournful procession moved, bearing her to her last home. 
First came youths with consecrated candles, followed next 
a band of music performing a slow march, succeeded by 
boys swinging censers with burning incense of the sweet- 
scented bark of the sacred sandal tree before the holy cross ; 
then was borne the image of San Pedro, the patron-saint of 
the pueblo^ on the shoulders of strong men flanked with 
torch-bearers burning the resinous ocote. Again came the 
boys swinging rich incense and bearing candles ; then fol- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


341 


lowed the priests, friars, and neophites in prayer. Next, 
upon a high catafalque covered with black cloth, reposed the 
dead lady, without a coffin, in white robes, with many 
wreaths of fresh flowers over her and an ebony cross upon 
her bosom. Her flowing hair fell loose upon her shoulders 
as she was carried forward ; and, amid the transparent clouds 
of holy perfume, her beautiful, pale features could be seen 
wearing an angelic smile upon them. The villagers with 
torches and candles closed the long line of mourners. 

On reaching the church they poured into the sacred edifice 
until the wliole space was covered with the dense crowd. 
Mass was performed on the altar, and the other appropriate 
services for the dead. A portion of the floor was removed 
and the lifeless body was lowered into its grave. The Mar- 
quez looked dowui into the vaulted chamber below to take a 
parting look at the innocent victim buried among strangers 
in a foreign land. But the planks were soon drawn over her, 
and she was gone for ever from mortal sight. 

The sacristan awaited with the register for the extra to 
write in it a minute of the death and burial. Tlie priest 
seated himself at a low table at one side of the altar, and 
asked : “ Who will tell me the name of the departed sister ?” 

A maiden approached with a piece of-cambric in her hand, 
on the corner of which was the lady’s name. When the 
priest had entered it in thte book he said aloud: “Her home 
when on earth ?” 

“New York City,” was answered in a low tone. 

“ What more ?” asked the priest. 

“In th street. No. again responded the same 

soft voice, but so low and tremulous that the numbers were 
not heard. A maiden, however, repeated them to the extra^ 
and they were written on the page. 


342 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


“ What more shall we add before closing the book ?” pro- 
claimed the priest, to be heard beyond tlie sacred edifice. 

The good Anselmo, on his knees, was leaning with his 
bm-ning brow on the cold marble slab of the altar. He ele- 
vated his eyes to the golden crucifix and groaned aloud, with 
large tears streaming over his cheeks : “ Father in heaven. 
Thy will be done.” Rising to his feet he approached the 
priest and cried, in tones of a recording angel: “ Write how 
sire died ?” Then seizing the pen, lie inscribed some lines 
himself. Liftmg up the register in his hands, he turned to 
the congregation, saying : “ Listen, my children, as it has 
been written. 

“Murdered, by Don Nicolas Sabina, of the hacienda of 
Santa Lucia. 

In loitness^ 


Anselmo, 


in God.” 


THE METROFOLITES. 


848 


CHAPTER XXIX. . 

An unusual attendance was observed in tbe club-rooms of 
Monsieur Lete. The Babes were in full council. The Found- 
ling establishment for the destitute — thos^ forlorn, forsaken 
youths, who, cut off from healthy employment, are dependent 
upon the charity of otliers for their daily amusement. Bom 
to the inheritance of dollars and duhiess, they know not what 
to do with themselves. But the first Saturday in November 
was their annual meeting for the election of new members ; 
and with many it had the unusual excitement of being a day 
of business. 

When the roll was called, all the members answered to 
their names. It was a large assembly of the youth and wealth 
of the city. Everybody was in a good humor, and everybody 
inclined to be witty, or the cause of Avit in others by their 
smiling approbation of every juvenile eflbrt. Walter Parker 
was there, having been, it was said, in the summer a month 
before at the Sulphur Springs of Virginia. Morton Burk Avas 
there, having returned, it was said, with the old lady Dowa- 
ger from Sharon, when the cold Aveather drove them South. 
Mr. Sabina was there, after a missionary cruise for months in 
the West Indies, it was said, distributing flannel shirts and 
family Bibles f6r a Dorcas society. Even Nathan Trenk, 
neAvly elected, Avas there, having spent part of the summer 
at the Druidoaks, where, Walter Parker said, they marched 
to breakfast to the sound of the gong in Norma, and part of 
the time at Rockaway with Mrs. Russell and her children. 

Several gentlemen were proposed as members, and some 
w^re carried without any division. But an uproar arose before 
the vote was taken on the admission of Mr. Harry Chester 


844 


THE METROPOLITES. 


and Mr. Fancy Bubble. A question of order, of rules, of 
law, a constitutional question, was started. One of them was 
too old, the other was too young. Chester was superannuated 
as “ old ” Harry himself, being upwards of thirty. Bubble 
was of too tender an age, just turned olf twenty. 

The members sat round or stood in groups, discussing the 
abstract questions upon which their admission depended. 
Walter Parker, as representing “all the talent,” had a large 
circle for an admiring audience. He was oj)ppsed to Chester, 
as too old — too old by three lengths of an almanac. “ Why, 
he has actually made his own fortune, which clearly proves 
he is not entitled to any relief from this charitable institu- 
tion for helpless infancy. He cannot be admitted without 
undergoing quarantine with the inspection of a sanitary com- 
mittee. Who knows but he may be afflicted with the clironic 
rheumatism, with the gout, lumbago, and long stories, any 
one of which would xlisperse the cherubs, or give them a new 
set of senile diseases before they were convalescent of croup 
and the measles, whooping-cough, cholera infantum, and cop- 
per-toed shoes.” The learned gentleman, having received un- 
bounded applause, proceeded to the second head of objec- 
tions — that Chester was rich, and, for the speaker’s part, ho 
disliked rich people. To be sure, he must admit that when 
he added fifty or seventy -five thousand a year more to his 
own present annual income he would be rich himself. But 
that was beside the question. At this present moment he 
was not partial to rich people ; and he knew the Babes, 
generally, had similar amiable feelings to that class, for whom 
no salvation was vouchsafed. They could no more be admit- 
ted into this mstitution than into Abraham’s bosom. It was 
the loud wail from their injured offspring which would 
exclude them from Paradise. Not that he, or others around 


THE METROPOLITES. 


845 


him, had any wish to stop them from going there as soon as 
])Ossible. Every one here had some especial grievance against 
this odious caste, the ricli. They were the cause of universal 
destitution of funds among his fellow-members and fellow- 
sufferers. No one here ever had enough of money, nor half 
enough, for that matter. It was all owing to the want of 
proper Cliristian parental feeling. A combination would be 
made, a strike among these old fogies to break up this 
charitable asylum if they knew of it. “ They are our natural 
enemies, and I hate them,” said he. “ Let all the children 
here present remember my words, when they say their ‘ Now- 
I-lay-me-down-to-sle p,’ to-night.” 

Mr. Parker added some more last words, which met with 
decided approbation from an admiring, cheering circle ; but 
the- above is the substance of his indignant, eloquent outburst. 
In truth the orator wished to hear what Mr. Burk, who repre- 
sented the “ moneyed interest,” had to say against Fancy 
Bubble’s admission. But Mr. Burk was not in an eloquent 
mood. His objections, therefore, were not many, nor forci- 
ble, nor witty. Moreover they were soon brought to a close, 
perceiving the members’ minds made up to reject Fancy. An 
excuse only was required to exclude both of these nominees, 
who in all probability were not aware their names had been 
})resented to this secret and select association. 

Neither Fancy nor Chester was of sufficient stainless pedi- 
gree or gentility to be admitted without question. It was, 
therefore, only a ruse to exclude them under the rules with- 
out resorting to the black-ball, which generally gave some 
umbrage to the members proposing the admission of friends. 
Young Fancy Bubble was the pet of his widowed mother. 
His father had been a famous Bull in Wall street operations 
in stock. He made his fortune in a sudden inflation in the 


846 


THE METRO POLITES. 


market. He would have lost it all in a subsequent sudden 
depression. But he was seized with a paralysis on the news 
of the fall in the quotations, and died without any settlement 
of his losing contracts. Young Bubble, therefore, had an im- 
mense fortune, but nothing else to recommend him. 

Harry Chester returned recently from China, where he was 
consul for several years. He had been successful in his 
speculations at the Antipodes and came back immensely rich, 
supercilious, and purse-proud. He belonged to an old family 
of the city on his mother’s side ; and carried all before him on 
his return among the Knickerbockers, until he received a check 
in a ballot for admission to the leading club. How the fact 
became known that his name had been canvassed at all was 
a mystery ; for a ballot is seldom divulged, if ever. But it 
was supposed Chester had talked of it himself, as, in an impe- 
rious mood one day, he demanded the reason from a quiet 
member, who was absent at the time of the rejection, w^hom 
the China consul felt disposed to browbeat in his ill-humor. 
The gentleman replied that, when he understood the cause, 
perhaps he would inform him. At the next interview, Mr. 
Chester was referred to Mr. Kevil for further information, the 
member declining to say more on the subject. 

The Bribes were not favorably impressed with the manners 
of Mr. Chester, or else, perhaps, the question of age would 
not have been applied. It is true none could be legally ad- 
mitted who were thirty years old ; but one or two had passed 
who might have been rejected on that point had objection 
been made. The object of the rule was to get rid of many 
who would not be congenial to the younger members, and in 
fact soon change the character of the club. With all the care 
taken, however, some gained entrance through their wealth, 
whose social qualities and family standing would not have 


THE METROPOLITES. 


347 


furnished sufficient recommendations had they been better 
known. 

The business of the club was dkj^atched before the Babes 
thought of dining, and many of them left long before sun- 
down. Morton Burk intended spending the evening in the 
Bowery with the Rose-Bud and Major Waywode. Sabina 
went home to dine with his aunt, as she had engaged him for 
her escort in the evening to a meeting of a benevolent 
society, where an interesting lecture was anticipated from a 
young clergyman, on “ the influence of mothers.” Walter 
Parker remained to dine in the saloon with some friends, and 
Nathan Trenk was invited by a small party in one of the 
])rivate rooms of tlie club. 

Nathan was in high health and spirits. He was the happi- 
est of all the “ Babes.” The last year had been one continued 
series of success in his profession and in the increase of his 
income, while his entrance into society at all times and in all 
places was a perpetual ovation. Fortune, legal reputation, 
social popularity, placed him at the pinnacle of youthful ambi- 
tion. Yomig and still more handsome than ever, dressing 
with most exquisite taste, which well became his graceful, 
])leasing manners — ^to heighten the ffiscination of his accom- 
j)lishments what more did he want ? Nothing, nothing. He 
was almost satiated with playing the lion in the social mena- 
gerie. 

He had therefore flown to the Druidoaks for repose, partly 
in gratitude to the banker’s wife who had been liis early 
friend. The warm smiles of fortune expanded the finer feel- 
ings of his heart. He returned joyous to those for whom his 
first attachments were formed. His attentions and kindness 
to the novel-reading Norma were appreciated by the lady ; 
for she well knew what fascinations he had foregone to come 


?AS 


THE METROPOLITES. 


to her bedside and amuse her with the little tattle of the 
world. When he told her he loved her dearly and tenderly 
as he 'jvould love a mother, she believed him, for she’ wished 
it ; and, moreover, a sort of maternal affection for him was 
very strong in her own bosom. 

When he left the Druidoaks he hastened back to town to 
take Mrs. Russell and the children to the sea shore, as the 
Doctor had recommended ocean-bathing for the little cripple 
Alice. How kind he was to the afflicted child, drawing her 
little carriage into the surf, and seeing she was not frightened 
as the waves came rolling in upon her. The boy Bob was 
not without his share of attention from Nathan ; for the little 
fellow was rigged out in a suit of bathing clothes, and always 
ready at high tide to be carried into the water by him. The 
grateful mother could not express her overpowering feelings 
to Nathan; but, when alone, she would remember his unceas- 
ing, gentle attentions, until tears would come in her eyes, 
which she would wipe away in silent, heart-felt satisfaction. 

If Nathan on this November afternoon was in a fine flow 
of spirits, his company at the same dinner-table with him 
were not. Four young gentlemen were his companions ; for 
it was agreed they should have a quiet little dinner to-day to 
talk over some business matters in which they were jointly 
interested. These four young gentlemen and Nathan were 
the owners and freighters of the yacht Theodolinda, named 
in honor of the Hebe at the Club. The expenses for the 
sailing season had to be settled and paid, and they were low 
in funds. They had been for the last three months at Sara- 
toga, leaving everything for Nathan to manage in the way of 
business. 

With them the season had not been propitious. Before 
starting on their summer campaign they tried a “ flyer ” on 


THE METROPOLITES. 


849 


a choice fancy stock, just thrown fresh' on the market. They 
purchased a thousand shares each, which, under the negotia- 
tion of Nathan, were procured at a very low figure — costing 
each of them some ten thousand dollars. The stock rose 
rapidly in value, and the young men, thinking it would go 
on rising for them to a mountain of wealth, left the shares in 
charge of Nathan “ to nurse,” while they went ofi* to the 
springs to have a jolly time on the strength of this new item 
to their incomes. 

At Saratoga they soon tired of the common routine of 
amusements. They pronounced them tame and a bore. 
Wishing something more exciting, they attacked the “ tiger ” 
— a very wild kind of game for young men to hunt without 
the proper skill, encased in the most approved black leg- 
gings. They found the pursuit very expensive, as the ferocious 
animal took to that moimtain of wealth which they 
fondly imagined was growing for them out of the fancy bean- 
stock in Wall street. They soon discovered their military 
chest exhausted which was to supply funds for the summer 
campaign. The four “ Babes ” in the mountains after the 
“ tiger ” were lost in the wilderness of figures. They were, in 
debt eighty thousand dollars. Even Tpenk, their man of busi- 
ness, was absent from them in their distress ; for he, like a good 
robin red-breast, might give them, perhaps, a crumb of 
comfort or a few leaves out of his check-book to cover 
them. 

The fancy stock had gone up from ten to fifty per cent. 
Perhaps they were still safe. But the roar, of the bears 
during the night frightened the “ Babes.” The grizzlies had 
cleared their mountain of wealth in Wall street; and the 
morning papers disclosed the fact that the precious invest- 
ment, where they had garnered up their hopes, was gone, as 


350 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Mr. Dace, witli poetic feeling, remarked, like the dew of the 
mountain, like the foam on the North River, like the bubble 
on a Broadway puddle — gone, and for ever. Now these four 
Gerards — not the famous banker, but the African tiger 
hunter — sat at the table at the Club with no more appetite 
than Cardinal Wolsey for a certain breakfast. 

They knew themselves indebted to Nathan Trenk on a 
settlement of the Theodolinda expenses, and certain checks 
he had sent them were also unpleasant items to contemplate* 
But they did not wish to hear the items. It was the sum 
total due by each, and then for Nathan’s opinion what pro- 
perty to sell sot as to make hquidation. They were all ho- 
norable, kind, generous young patricians, who had now to 
cut into their patrimony, however unpleasant for their mid- 
summer folly. 

Harry Dace sat drooping with his feet wide apart, rapping 
the fragile top of his pipe-stem cane against his lower teeth. 
He could bear, he thought, the blowing-up a ^certain uncle 
would give him when he learned his parting with a house 
and lot. But that was nothing to endure when compared 
with the laugh against him in the Club, when all was known. 
In desperation to hear the worst, he exclaimed to Nathan, 
who was humming a new glee : 

“ Well, Mr. Trenk, tell me the figure I o\ve you on all 
accounts. Tlie sooner over the better. What’s the sum total 
I must pay ?” 

“ Pay me !” asked Nathan, “ pay me for what? You owe 
me nothing.” 

“ I mean what’s my proportion of yacht expenses and the 
checks you sent me ?” 

“You forget, Harry,” said Nathan, “the fancy stock you 
left with me.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


351 


what of that?” asked Dace. “ It is gone, and if 
I had never touched it I would not now be in debt a dol- 
lar.” 

“ In debt, Harry — to whom are you in debt ?” 

“ To you, Trenk, in a pretty large figure.” 

“It is true, Harry, certain items are against you, but 
remember the proceeds of the stock cover them.” 

“ Proceeds of the stock !” they all exclaimed in amaze- 
ment. “ Did you seU out for us ?” 

“I sold out all, all; my own along with yours at fifty, just 
before the turn came.” 

The “ Babes” held their breath in gratified astonisliment. 

“We did not know that,” cried every one. 

“Nor did I intend you should know it till you returned 
from fighting ‘ the tiger.’ The news by the steamer Europa 
made me bucolic in the fields of fancy stock, and I went the 
taunis for a prize at a cattle-show.” 

“ What made you change ?” asked Pactolus. 

“The Northern Liglit came in ten days later with a cold 
breeze which gave me an Arctic shiver ; I felt like a polar 
bear, and turned to that animal for a short cut, a north-west 
passage to the Indies — I sold.” 

Young Anthon bounded forward to grasp Nathan by the 
hand. The others followed a similar impulse and embraced 
him in their joy. Trenk had made them five times the 
amount of their capital invested. They were relieved from a 
load of debt, of family censure, and of the laugh against 
them at the Club. It was only two days before that, for 
something, three cheers were proposed in their presence and 
given, when Walter Parker rose to say: “Will the four 
honorable members, late from Saratoga, %dd — and the tiger.” 
Only think of the horrible laugh which greeted this amend- 


352 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ment among the “ Babes.” Now they were free from that 
rub. 

Now they eould talk calmly and philosophically to their 
young friends about betting on faro-^the tiger-fighting — at 
Saratoga. They could explain how the cards ran in their 
favor and how against them, and the “ cool” thousands lost 
and won tiU they came out minus a mint of money. How 
they would have been “ swamped,” had it not been for a 
“ sure thing” in Wall street, where Trenk kept them 
“posted,” and where they sold just before “the bottom 
began to fall out.” They gave Nathan, no doubt, after- 
wards, a full cup of praise for his part of the transaction, 
but the foam of glory on the top they poured upon their own 
modest heads, to encourage a new growth of stock-jobbing 
foresight, since they had passed the crisis in financial teething. 

In the first glow of unexpected good fortune, where they 
had anticipated disaster, they resolved the yacht should be 
remodelled for the next season, with an expensive outfit to 
make her the most elegant and luxurious craft to be seen at 
a regatta. They attributed their good luck to the happy cir- 
cumstance of a joint ownership with Nathan in the Theodo- 
linda. What, then, was the consideration of a few thousands 
to each of them for the yacht, if Nathan could win ten times 
as much for them in a few months ? 

The night drew on, the cold rain fell in torrents, vdth some 
sleet and snow. The “ Babes,” with Nathan Trenk, therefore 
determined to remain at the club to spend the evening. In 
their high spirits they invited others to join them until the 
table was crowded with merry guests. Walter Parker had 
not, however, accepted their invitation, although pressed to 
unite with the “ faAily circle.” He-left at dark, intending to 
spend the evening at home. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


353 


He found Emma Gray with his mother, with whom the 
young lady had passed the afternoon and dined. As it was 
now late for Emma to be abroad, Walter and Mrs. Parker 
escorted her home in their carriage, the weather not permit- 
ting them to walk. It was their wish to persuade Emma to 
attend a brilliant, much canvassed party, for which the invi- 
tations were out, to come off in the course of a few days. 
But she was depressed in spirits and would not promise. 
They sympathized in silence with the pretty, poor orphan 
girl in her lonely condition, and pitied the sad fate to which 
she was doomed. 

The gentle kindness of Mrs. Parker was grateful to the 
feelings of Emma, who could only press the hand of the 
widow in thanks for her sympathy. It was evident that sor- 
rows and trouble were coming upon the orphan without a 
friend in whom to confide, or from whom to expect consola- 
tion. Nothing is more affecting than the young and beauti- 
ful oppressed with anxiety and cares — when the morning (yf 
life is overcast with clouds, and when the evening may close 
in a storm of misery and desolation. Emma kissed the good 
lady before leaving the carriage, and as they drove from her 
door, she felt distressed with a sense of lier isolation from all 
loving kindred, from parents, from brothers and sisters. 


854 


THE METROPOLITES. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Without one smiling face to welcome her return, Emma 
Gray entered her cheerless home. The rooms were vacant, 
cold, and gloomy. The fires were neglected, and only one 
dim burner of gas sent a flickering ray along the hall. Her 
aunt was confined to her room, where she requested not to 
be disturbed. The orphan girl, therefore, crept slowly up 
the stairs to her own apartment, to pass away the solitary 
hours before retiring to bed. 

Her uncle was not at borne, nor did she expect to see him. 
He was not fortunate in business, for certain bills, presented 
more than once, would have been settled had he not been 
in great want of funds. The inference was, that her uncle 
had met with misfortunes, the knowledge of which he had 
concealed from her. His airs of abstraction, his hurried man- 
ner, indicated his time was not at his own disposal, nor his 
afiairs prosperous. 

Poor Tantis was in great want of money ; although he 
struggled hard to conceal the fact in Wall street. Possessing 
some business experience and quite fertile in inventive re- 
sources, he was cimning — ^more cunning than a man of sense. 
When he proposed a negotiation to others, they had less 
doubt of its success in his skilful hands than in their reaping 
any of the benefit. They thought Tantis could not only make 
money, but would keep it also for himself when it was made. 
For this reason his proposals were often declined. 

He obtained that unenviable notoriety which is known as 
“slippery.” Therefore, only a certain class of speculators 
countenanced his participating in their business transactions, 
which they did for the purpose of taking advantage of him 


THE METROPOLITES. 


855 


on the first opportunity. They knew if anything w;'.s said, 
everybody would suppose Mr. Tantis was in fault, and his 
side of the story never have an impartial hearing. When he, 
therefore, complained of unfair dealing on the part of those 
with whom he was operating, he was only laughed at and 
recommended “ to be ahead ” himself next time. 

Numerous promises and inducements were held out to him 
in the event of success in negotiations then pending, if he 
would contribute his time and talents to forward the objects. 
Consequently Tantis was quite zealous in promoting the 
enterprises agitJited for the more rapid development of the 
wealth and resources of tlie American continent. At one 
time he would be deep in coal mines, copper rock, lead veins, 
and zinc deposits. Again he would, like Sardanapalus, create 
cities and towns in a day, sell lots in them, and erect acade- 
mies, found universities, dedicate churches, and promote the 
fine arts by a liberal allowance for an opera-house, in these 
architectural structures on paper. 

Canals, railroads, steamers, and turnpikes, were all in turn 
improved and increased by the vigorous application of his 
mind to these facilities for locomotion. Even the agricul- 
turist might be thankful for his attention to the beds of marl, 
lime, guano, and phosphates, with which he proposed enrich- 
ing the land. His inventive genius also was employed in 
lecturing to a select few, having money to invest, on the 
advantages and profits to be derived from the various model 
mechanical or scientific improvements recently patented 
under our all-wise government at Washington. 

In the multiplicity of his various avocations, Tantis some- 
times made a little money, which he immediately applied to 
sustain the reputation of some noble enterprise, by purchasing 
-shares of its stock on time, and then exercising all his art, 


856 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ingenuity, and volubility to enhance the price. Sometimes 
he would deem a corporate undertaking unsound, unprofit- 
able, and fraudulent, whereupon he would sell some of the 
abominable “trash” on the same terms, and proceed, in the 
benevolence of his patriotic and philanthropic disinterested- 
ness, to prove and prophesy to all that the “rotten conoern” 
would fall to pieces in a month, and would make no sign in 
the way of a dividend. He was a prophet. 

Prophets are, however, without honor in Wall stiveet. 
There are too many of them in that locality. In a Scriptural 
sense, they all belong to the same class, and may be taken 
for those false soothsayers whose coming is foretold, and 
whom the elect are warned to shun. The prophecies of 
Tantis had of late proven fallacious ; he had suffered, of 
course, with those who believed in the same chapter of the 
same book of revelations. His reputation for sagacity had 
not improved down town ; and as his sources for home sup- 
plies gradually dried up, his pressing necessities became 
revealed to those creditors having little bills against him. 

Some of these claims had not been paid when sent in. 
Renewed applications for payment were rnade in tones and 
terms neither gentle nor complimentary. Occasionally poor 
Emma was afliicted when in the hearing of these disagree- 
able altercations. Indeed, some of the petty creditors made 
direct appeals to her for the amoimts due to them. These 
became a cause of new anxiety and distress to her, which 
she could neither shun nor remove. Of late they had been 
increasing, and occasionally the applicants were insulting in 
the language with which they pressed their demands. 

On this wet, cold, cheerless evening, when she reached her 
room and lit the gas, she found an open note on her work- 
stand, addressed to her uncle, which she supposed had been 


THE METROPOLITES. 


367 


sent up stairs for her perusal. The contents not only shocked 
but alarmed her for the consequences threatened. A bill of 
sixty-four dollars was due a millinery establishment, the pro- 
prietor of which had either failed or assigned the claims 
against her customers to a Jew in Chatham Square. The 
broker had written to inform Mr. Tantis if the amount was 
not paid that day, or on Monday, he would proceed to adver- 
tise for sale all the unpaid bills, in which he would specify 
names, items, and amounts. 

Poor Emma was mortified and in despair at the thought 
of such public exposure of their improvidence and poverty. 
Looking, in her innocence and strict probity, on debt almost 
as a crime, or at least sinful, she wrung her hands in despair 
as she wept in the agony of her soul. She submitted in all 
humility to this new cause of sorrow, added to the load of 
her other afliictions with which she was burdened. For this 
was no remedy ; she knew not where to fly for relief or alle- 
viation. 

She bowed her head upon her workstand and wept in 
silence, until she found some comfoi-t in prayer to her hea- 
venly Father to guide her properly in the trials now before 
her. The orphan child had only Him to call upon, as she 
seemed cut oflT from all ties of kindred to aid her in her dis- 
tress. She resolved to submit resigned to this harsh pro- 
ceeding, to accept it as an affliction sent for some ^vise, good 
pui-pbse to check aspirations of pride, to chasten a rebellious 
spirit against her lowly lot in life. 

AVdien she looked up from the table Rosey had entered the 
room, and stood before her with pity and sorrow depicted 
in her pale, benevolent countenance. 

“Emma, my dear, what is the matter, you are crpng 
80?^’ 


358 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


“ Only look here, Rosey,” handing her the threatening let- 
ter ; “ a man in Chatham Square says he will publish us in all 
the newspapers and sell his bill by auction.” 

Rosey read the note carefully, and ascertained the items- 
of the accompanying account. 

“ Do you think, Emma, he will be so mean as to put in the 
papers that you owe him the bill ?” 

“ Yes, Rosey, I am afraid he will; and only think how it 
will injure and disgrace uncle. He made me get the arti- 
cles and work done, some time ago, when he told me he 
would pay the bill. Now he is not able, it seems, and I am 
miserable. It is sinful.” Emma could say no more in her 
sobbing. 

The woman had no comfort or consolation for this new 
cause of trouble. She had never known a sorrow before aris- 
ing from such a source. In her perplexity she knew not what 
to suggest to Emma. She could say nothing. She therefore 
stood in silence, looking mournfully upon the distressed 
orphan whom she loved with all the affection of a mother. 
At last she took up her basket from the floor and de- 
parted, leaving Emma neither relieved nor consoled by her 
visit. 

The rain was still pouring down upon the street, while the 
sleet, mixed with snow, blew in the face of the laundress as 
she gained the pavement from the area of the basement. 
But in her coarse garments and heavy shoes she splashed 
oA^er the wet crossings, only pulling the thick shawl closer 
around her person, or taking a shorter grip on the handle of 
an old cotton umbrella. On she went in silence, till she had 
left all the fashionable streets behind her ; on she went till 
she sought shelter from the slush, the sleet, and snow, in a 
large corner grocery. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


359 


The owner of the store recognised her on entering. But 
she did not feel inclined to stay. 

“I want you to give me some money,” said she to the 
man. 

“ How much ?” he asked, pulling open his money drawer. 

“ I want to know first, what amount you have in there ?” 

“ Oh, for that matter,” answered the man, laughing, “ I can 
let you have a hundred dollars if you are going to buy a 
house or horse to-night.” 

“ AYell, give it to me,” she said, slowly. 

“ What, a hundred dcfilars ?” 

Rosey nodded an affirmative. The grocer counted out the 
sum in gold and handed it over the counter. 

She carefully recounted the money, then tying it in the 
corner of a red bandana handkerchief, turned away without 
even a retiring salutation. Slowly wending her steps in the 
storm to Broadway, she entered an omnibus going dovm 
town. Seating herself in a corner furthest from the entrance, 
she found her skirts were dripping wet as well as her stock- 
ings and feet. The omnibus, however, was without passen- 
gers, and she sat alone, shivering in the cold and rain blowing 
through a broken window. 

Soon, however, others entered, ladies and gentlemen gaily 
dressed, in cheerful mood, hastening down to the various the- 
atres that line this brilliant thoroughfare of the city. They 
looked with pity upon the poor woman with the basket, 
meanly clad, who sat shivering with wet and cold in the cor- 
ner — and, as the ladies thought, with a most horrid bonnet on 
her head. Where could the poor pitiable object pick up such 
a shabby bonnet — one of the greatest calamities of poverty ! 
They felt a sympathy for the freezing creature, who, from cruel 
necessity, had to be abroad in such inclement weather “ with 


360 THE METROrOLlTKS. 

such a bonnet.” Could these beings have any comforts or 
happiness in this world ? There was a tear, a tear of distress, 
no doubt, in the sad woman’s eye. What hard times the 
poor must have with want staring them in the face! Perhaps 
she has no fire at home this stormy night. What a bonnet ! 

Such were some of the natural thoughts which arose in-the 
minds of her fellow-passengers as she sat in silence by the 
broken window. Rosey, hoAvever, paid ho attention to them. 
Her mind dwelt on other subjects, the unwonted excitement 
of the evening having recalled a long train of agreeable and 
yet mournful reminiscences. In her memory a scene was 
fresh where a poor young girl from Germany lay on a sick 
bed, of ship-fever, in a low, dirty immigrant boarding-house. 
Four beds were in that small room, without curtains at the 
windows to shade the light of a hot summer sun, or carpet to 
cover the unwashed floor. While helpless at sea, she had 
been robbed of her clothing and small pittance in money ; her 
sister a passenger, was buried in the ocean. Here, in a 
foreign land, she was alone without one acquaintance or 
friend — ^feeble, sick, and destitute. A burning thirst is in her 
parched mouth, a racking pain in her throbbing temples, no’ 
one to relieve her, no one to give her a cool drink, no one to 
call upon even in death. • 

The door is opened and a person enters. Is it only an 
aged gentleman, or an angel of light, so benevolent in fea- 
tures, with a heavenly smile upon his lips, dressed with ele- 
gance in the finest, richest clothing. But the poor woman 
about whom he has received a letter is dead — died the day 
before at the hospital. He turns to the hard bed, with dirty 
sheets, of the helpless immigrant girl, and oh, the horror of 
that girl, to know she is seen in such a condition — shq who 
had been brought up at home in Faderland to reverence 


THE METROPOLITES. 


861 


cleanliness as a vital element of life, as a virtue, as a sacred 
commandment — she to be seen unwashed, uncombed, with 
unchanged clothing for many weeks, with the wrinkles of 
squalor on her head, on her neck, on her hands! Shame 
brought the blood to her cheeks, to her ears, to her forehead. 
No pain was felt except that agony of shame. 

The poor immigrant child could not speak ; she held forth 
her paper in silence, with trembling hand — the letter from her 
religious pastor of the little hamlet from whence she came. 
It was her all — all she had to plead for her. The venerabla 
gentleman took it from her emaciated fingers and read it 
slowly, although in German. Another sweet smile beamed 
upon his countenance, as he baid in her own beloved tongue : 
“ I have been in your village. I have heard this good man 
preach to his little flock, and he declares in this you are one 
of the best of his people.” What more he said or did she 
knew not — she had fainted away. But when the girl opened 
her eyes again he was bearing her, all soiled as sbe was, in 
his arms, with her face resting on the soft, snow-white frills 
on bis breast, with his delicious breath mixed with her hot 
fever, bearing her to a bath-room where some women were 
in attendance. 

Then she remembered being again in his arms, borne to a 
carriage, which she entered, to lean on his shoulder while 
he supported her till she swooned with weakness and languor 
from the effects of the bathing. Where did the poor immi- 
grant awake from this insensibility? She was in a cool, 
downy bed, in a beautiful room, with the most comfortable 
funiiture. A lovely lady sat at her side, with soft hand 
upon the poor girl’s throbbing brow ; and when the destitute 
stranger opened her eyes, she fomid herself dressed in the 
finest, whitest night-clothes, lying on clean, fresh linen sheets. 

16 


362 


THE METROPOLITES. 


The kind lady gave her some drink — refreshing, cold as ice — • 
to assuage her burning thirst. She felt the girl’s pulse, she 
smoothed her pillow, and once more placed to her lips the 
pleasant, cold liquid. The fever was gone, but the poor suf- 
ferer was too feeble to rise ; some light food was prepared 
for her. The physician came to cheer her with the hope she 
would soon be able to work. The venerable gentleman was 
much with her, bringing roses and flowers such as bloomed in 
her own garden in Deutschland ; and cherries, large ox-hearts, 
such as she had sometimes tasted when a child. 

And the beautiful little boy, more than two years old, 
came running into that sick-room after his mamma. When 
told not to make a noise, he pushed a chair to the bed and 
climbed up to kiss the poor sick girl. He crawled up to her 
lips and patted her wan cheek. He kissed her again and 
talked to her ; but she could not understand his words, while 
she believed he said he would love her better than his nurse 
who had gone away. He nestled in her bosom and fell asleep 
on her arm. Even that child loved her ; she, the squalid 
immigrant, only convalescent of ship fever, was beloved by 
that beautiful boy of the rich stranger, in a strange land, far 
away from her home. 

That bright little boy, how he drooped afterwards when 
she was well and strong! How his little arms and legs 
shrimk to nothing, as if to cheat death of a corporeal victim, 
when disease slowly was drawing him on to the grave ! Yet 
he loved her more as his infirmities increased, for she had 
taught him her own tongue, and he said his little prayers as 
she had lisped them when a child, which always brought 
back such sweet memories of her home ; she could even now 
remember his childish tones in pronouncing the final aunien, 
^ But yet one painful, heart-rending reminiscence remained 


THE METROPOLITES. 


363 


— when it seemed that dear little fellow had but a few days 
to live, when he could scarce speak, when the lady heard her 
baby-boy lisp her name for the last time — the last time, for 
she never heard it again, the look of despair, of anguish, 
on that hdr brow of the young wife, as her first-born fixintly 
breathed her name, and then turned his beautiful eyes upon 
the immigrant girl-nurse with an imploring look not to leave 
him — so full of affection for her whom he loved even as much 
as his fond mother. 

Wliile Rosey was dwelling upon this sweet yet painful 
scene of former days, she espied the gas lamps in the Park 
around the City Hall. The other passengers had left without 
her observing them, and she was once more alone in the* om- 
nibus. Pulling the check-strap, she hurried out to a car run- 
ning through Chatham Square, but, hearing the soimd of 
something in her basket, she discovered the ladies and gen- 
tlemen had thrown in secretly several half-dollars, supposing 
she was in need of charity. They had observed the tears 
trickling down from her eyes on her pale cheeks, and felt a 
kind sympathy for the poor woman whose countenance indi- 
cated many good qualities of the heart. In their pity for her 
they had, without a word spoken among them, placed in the 
hands of one of the gentlemen the amount of their joint contri- 
butions, who deposited it in the basket at her feet. 

She carefully counted the money thus given to her in 
charity before putting it in her pocket, and in a few minutes 
stepped out of the railroad car near to the shop of the Jew- 
broker. It was not long, however, before she was again on 
her way up town, bearing with her the bill, receipted, that 
had given the beautiful orphan so much distress. 

“ Here is the paper, Emma, which you wanted, and now 
you need cry no more about it,” handing the receipt to tff 


864 


THE METROPOLITES. 


little lady, who sat in her cheerless and cold room on that 
evening of storm and gloom. 

“ Thank you, Rosey, you good soul. Where did you get 
the money to pay for this ?” 

“ Your uncle will return it to me,” was the evasive reply 
of the w’oman, whose clothes were dripping wdth water. 
Emma read the receipt and sighed as.slie hoped her uncle 
would soon replace the amount it had cost her humble fi iend, 

But Rosey, observing the orphan girl was sad in mind, in 
order to divert her, told her about the ladies and gentlemen 
putting the money in her basket. The story had its effect 
upon Emma, who was much amused at the incident. 

Rosey wished to know if she were going to the party spoken 
of by Walter’s mother, and when Emma expressed her inten- 
tion to forego that pleasure, the kind woman insisted on 
her changing that resolution. A sensible view of the mat- 
ter, and, above all, her persuasive energy, induced the little 
lady to yield to such powerful importunity, perceiving 
the laundress had already decided the point for her that she 
must go. It was thus always the young beauty gave up any 
purpose she had formed when the loving kindness and good 
sense of her more aged monitor thought differently. 

The services of a dressing-maid were not wanting when the 
laundress knew not only the duties of one, but was willing 
and able to supply whatever deficiencies of toilet were dis- 
covered in emergencies. Rosey had now become an indis- 
pensable assistant in fitting her out for the many entertain- 
ments to which she was invited. Promising to come early, 
the kind woman took up her basket to return to her home, 
leaving Emma much easier in mind, with her cheerfulness re- 

« red. She was much happier now than when Rosey first 
ived in the evening. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


365 


But the indefatigable laundress did not imagine her duties 
for the day all perfonned. She took from her pocket the silver 
coin given to her in charity, and entered a druggist’s store to 
purchase several useful articles to invalids. She next stopped 
at a confectionery for some light bread and jelly. With 
these articles in her basket, she walked on through the rain- 
streams in the streets till she found the house near her own 
dwelling where a p6or, sick immigrant girl was almost desti- 
tute, convalescent of the measles contracted on board the 
crowded ship. 

The poor immigrant’s heart was gladdened, at the sight of 
Rosey’s pleasing, quiet countenance, and, as the invalid was 
much better, she enjoyed the visit as well as the little deli- 
cacies so judiciously brought for her nourishment. 

“ What would have become of me,” said the grateful con- 
valescent, “ if it had not been for you ? God will bless you 
for this.” 

“ The Almighty watched over me when I needed His keep- 
ing hand, and now I wish to acknowledge His goodness by 
helping others,” Rosey replied, and then added : “ But these 
things were not mine. They came from good, kind, benevo- 
lent persons of the city, who are always willing to aid the 
sick and destitute. They only sent them by me.” 

“ I am thankful some few good people are in this city,” 
sighed the invalid. 

“ Do not say some few, my child ; say a thousand, or ten 
thousand. Don’t believe those who tell you it is not so, for 
they do not know, or they are bad themselves. Good people 
boast not of their benevolence. But more is given away in 
this city to those in want than in all the cities of Europe put 
together. But here is some money left, as I did not spend all 
I they sent by me.” 


366 


THE METROPOLITES. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


The reception party, the long talked of reception party, the 
great sensation reception party, was given by Mrs. Slapdash, 
and Emma Gray was among her guests. Patrician with 
heavy purse, Mrs. Slapdash had found her way paved with 
smiles to the pure ethereal region of upper exclusive fashion. 
But Mrs. Slapdash was not satisfied with her proud pedigree 
and position. Mrs. Slapdash was ambitious withal, which 
brought her down to earth again, to expand her hospitable 
plumage with a come-and-admire-me fascination irresistible 
to the youth and beauty, wit, distinction, and wealth, wrinkles, 
powder, and paint of society, who flocked under her ample 
wings to adorn her upholstery, to admire her suppers, to 
adore her millinery, in one perpetual song of praise. 

The town residence of Mi’s. Slapdash, on exterior view, pre- 
sented a brown-stone palatial order of architecture. The 
curbing on the street, the broad pavement, were of brown- 
stone ; the basement railing, the wide steps, the portico, lamp- 
posts, columns, colonnade, were all of the same material, as well 
as the external embellishments in lintel, frieze, and cornice, 
while zoological and horticultural sculpture exhibited deer, 
elk, dogs, lions, fawns, and lambs ; trees, vines, oak-leaves, and 
ears of corn dressed in a like hue of brown. One side of a 
city park or square was occupied through its entire length by 
Mrs. Slapdash with her mansion, its brown extensions resting 
on avenues, where railway cars gave easy, instant access from 
pleasant portions of the island and from rural villas beyond. 

Mrs. Slapdash was content with her abode, with the space 
covered, with the imposing battlements of her smiling castle, 
wh^jjp she could, as heretofore, make her power to.be seen 


THE METROPOLITES. 


367 


and felt among rival potentates. Her preeminence was 
established before other noted fashionables had made their 
mark. She had witnessed the rising dawn of many, their me- 
ridian splendor, and their final sinking into obscure decay. 
Her greatness was endaring when modern opulence had 
often sunk into dust. Even now her sway is on the increase, 
and perhaps her fame will flourish when some “ Arkansas tra- 
veller” shall take his s'tand in the midst of a vast solitude upon 
a broken arch of the Harlem Higli Bridge to sketch the ruins 
of brown stone. 

Six blooming maidens, hand in hand, in the full flush of 
crinoline, entered her front portal abreast. Four matrons, in 
the spreading amplitude of personal development, stood 
before the same mirror to smile at their fair proportions 
reflected from foot to forehead. The drapery of the windows 
hung in the flowing festoons of mainsails on a ship of war; 
the cords and tassels were like unto silken cables tipped with 
burnished bombshells. The floors were a velvet prairie of 
Persian cai'pet, enamelled with its thousand wild flowers, a 
bufialo hunting-scene inwoven, the herd in flight chased by 
wild horses, savages, and wolves. 

The waters of fountains rushed down rippling cataracts 
into marble reservoirs, embanked in lawns of roses and green 
moss. Artificial light shone through the double crystal case- 
ments of cream-colored stained glass. In one place morning 
daTVTi beamed through the transparent painting of Aurora in 
her chariot, with winged-footed steeds, with the attendant 
radiant, laughing Seasons. At another a blaze of dazzling 
brightness brcke forth in mid-day effulgence. Further on 
twQight was melting away, as it ushered in the harvest moon, 
and again pale Cynthia and her train of nymphs, represen^ 
ing the fair, round orb of night, with myriads of twinkli^ 


368 


THE METROPOLITES 


stars, shed down a silver glow upon a winter garden in bloom, 
where lovers might wander through winding mazes of ver- 
dure, amid luscious fruit and tropical perfume. 

Music, with its heartfelt throbbings, invoked by a call of 
trumpet to the dancing hall, or floating on with rapturous 
swell from out the harp and cremona, prompted impulsive 
utterance of soul-stirring sentiment. Where the flute and 
violin poured forth a flood of melody, softer feelings inspired 
tongues made eloquent to whisper to listening ears thoughts 
that music, moonlight, and beauty could alone awaken. 

To the banquet the band gave its enlivening sounds in 
strains in unison with the Apieian adornments of the apart- 
ment : where the circling vine and clustering rose twined 
around alabaster columns ; where festive garlands vied in 
splendor with the golden dishes with which they were min- 
gled on the luxurious board ; where floral wreaths and bas- 
kets of flowers in profusion were Mosaic inlaid with jessa- 
mine, japonica, and geranium. 

Far within the building, in the palatial centre, the inferior 
halls paled their inefiectual attractions before the extent and 
grandeur of the Coliseum saloon of statues. Circular in 
form, a hippodrome in area, it would contain the metropoli- 
tans, piously believing in the divinity of point lace. Sacred 
to these, its hallowed precincts were never before profaned 
by the presence of that bifurcate addicted portion of mankind 
who apply the knife to the mouth in taking food, to cut them- 
selves off from people of quintessent refinement. The walls, 
inclining inward and upward, rose culminating in the obscure 
to a dome far above and beyond the reach of vision. 

To cleave this vault of darkness a hundred rockets were 
sent up to explode high in the vast canopy, revealing con- 
cave frescoes and jutting cartoons with which the inner sur- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


869 


face was encrusted. The blazing bubbles bursting and fall- 
ing, ignited tubular rings holding burning jets to illumine 
the immense space with their circles of light. Could such 
awe-inspiring sublimity of art be surpassed in the superhu- 
man contest for supremacy in the Eden of exclusiveness and 
celebrity ? Yet Mrs. Slapdash felt herself mortal and aged 
forty-two; but at six paces distant she seemed a blushing 
maiden of sweet sixteen. Her anatomical altitude was only 
forty-seven inches ; her weight was not much more in pounds 
avoirdupois. 

Priestess at the shrine of fashion, she received her pil- 
grims in the Coliseum saloon of statues. Seated upon a 
dais raised to twice her height above the carpet, she repre- 
sented the genius of the place upon a tripod. Her ample 
skirts, made of ballooning silk fabrics, air-tight and double, 
were covered with a gossamer lace that fell deep fluted in 
flounces to the floor. The hem of her garments communi- 
cated by means of a subterranean tube, with a gasometer 
from whence her train, receiving inflation, drew an immense 
circumference around her pretty person. 

To the outer edge of this magic ring, encircling the god- 
dess, the worshippers were permitted to approach in humble 
adoration ; and the furthest confines of an empire sent their 
fair representatives to this throng of wealth and beauty. 
The sound of distant, novel harmony came floating through 
long corridors. Fifty instruments blown by heated vapor 
breathed their melody through every recess. And now the 
march began to the music of this invisible orchestra perform- 
ing in slow time the song of Liberia in the Puritani. Then 
on came the fair daughters of Plymoutli Rock ; on came the 
lovely descendants of the Lowlands ; on came the beauteous 
off-spring of the peace-loving people in drab colors ; on came 

16 * 


870 


THE METROPOLITES. 


the blue-eyed maidens of Rhenish Alsatian blood ; on came 
the rosy-cheeked children claiming kindred with Culloden ; 
on came the bright-eyed, mirth-inspiring, whose forefathers 
were exiles of Erin ; on came the frank, cherry-lipped beau- 
ties with family escutcheons of the Cavaliers ; on came the 
sweet-smiling brunettes, lineal heirs of the persecuted Hu- 
guenot; on came the pensive, graceful Creoles, whose ances- 
tors were of Normandy ; on came the blue-veined Anda- 
lusians of Hidalgo pedigree, proud of their clear complexions, 
free from Moorish taint. 

But they came not alone. Fame sent her favorites to wait 
upon their footsteps. The poet, the painter, the sculptor 
skilful in his art, tlie successful in literature and science, were 
there ; the popular professor from the hall of lectm’es ; the 
renowned doctor believing in the millennium near at hand in 
the cessation of bloodshed ; the eminent divine attending to 
the business of everybody ; the celebrated lawyer attending 
to the business of nobody ; pastors for ever watching their 
flocks by day ; flocks for ever watching their pastors by night, 
went by in the passing crowd. The warriors by land and 
water who had borne their country’s banner on every ocean, 
amid Arctic open seas to Antarctic polar snows, or planted it 
high in battle on sultry plains of the torrid clime, marched 
to the music in this new zone of enchantment. The great 
men of the nation were there, and the elect of the people ; 
Commanders-in-Chief innocent of squad-drill; Adjutant- 
Generals yet to see guard-mounting ; Brigadiers who never 
drew a sword ; Commanders always sea-sick upon salt water ; 
Senators eloquent on the degeneracy of the age in the de- 
struction of sealing-wax ; and even Common-Councilmen ever 
doing good — ^by stealth. 

The vast throng was gone — gone to the ball-rooms, to the 


THE METROPOLITES. 


371 


banquet halls, to the bowers of the winter garden, to the 
boudoirs rich in India drapery. Revelry had usurped the 
place of the pageant ; the Coliseum saloon of statues was de- 
serted. The priestess sat alone upon her tripod, pensive yet 
triumphant. Her pale forehead rested upon a jewelled hand, 
wliile her seraphic memories were far away to think of one 
who dared to raise his eyes to mate with her in widowhood. 
In this saloon she had received him, where the very statues 
which adorn the walls frowned upon his temerity, when here 
she dismissed him. He was great in soul but diminutive in 
form. He had wooed anonymously in gilt-edged, pink-color- 
ed, laburnum-perfumed satin note-paper. She discovered his 
device. Why did he leave upon an envelope his crest 
unguarded ? She knew it — Queen Mab, with ear-trumpet 
entranced by the music of a band of midges at their morning 
drum-beat round a homoeopathic pill. 

Here he had thrown himself at her feet ; here General 
Thomas Theodore Digital avowed himself the author, con- 
fessed his intentions were honorable. With a smooth tongue 
and an enamelled shirt-collar, almost irresistible, he raised 
his voice and eyes in his audacity, but lost color and courage 
in the interview, to find safety only in silence. Petrified with 
a frown and with fear, he listened like a Lucifer fallen to his 
doom. “ Though you. General Thomas Theodore Digital, 
are world-renowned, receiving the smiles of princes and pre- 
sents of pony-chariots ; though you are high on the scroll of 
the American Legion of Honor, a Brigadier-Commander in the 
grand encampment of militia heroes ; though you have 
advanced to fame and the foot-lights on the historic and his- 
trionic stage, know that you are presumptuous in your aspira- 
tions upon our domain, upon our empire. Go !” and she 
pointed with the gesture of the tragic muse, with outstretched 


372 


THE METROPOLITES. 


arm, with elevated finger, to a distant aperture for exit — 
“ Go, and molest us no more. We reign supreme, we reign 
alone, resolved to remain vestal, consecrated to society and 
the silver fork.” 

General T. T. Digital brushed the dust from off the knees 
of his prostrate pantaloons and departed. 

Now she sat upon the tripod triumphant; all sensation 
receptions must henceforth fail before this mighty effort for 
supremacy. Slowly the lights were extinguished, and when 
the last ray was expiring in the embrace of grim darkness, 
she descended meekly and was once more Mrs. Slapdash 
again. Tripping quietly to the side of the old Lady Dowa- 
ger in a tapestried apartment, she put a jewelled hand affec- 
tionately into her aged palm. They understood each other 
without a syllable. The silent pressure of fingers revealed to 
the little widow that her evening was a success. 

In the immense assemblage, the familiar faces of the city 
beauties were lost in the concourse of a continent. The me- 
tropolis was here provincial. In this ocean of society friends 
met to signal each other like ships descried at sea. Nathan 
Trenk was left almost isolated. He saw one, however, who 
to him was more than all the other attractions of the night. 
Claudia leaned upon his arm and Hstened. He was eloquent 
because Claudia was his admiring, applauding audience. 
They roamed together through suites of luxury, saloons, pic- 
ture galleries, and conservatories, thinking only of themselves 
and happiness. Near a Carian statuette of Daphne and faun 
some acquaintances had found inviting, luxurious divans 
vacant upon which to rest their wearied limbs. Walter 
Parker and Morton waited upon Emma and Helen 
Nevil. 

“Look,” said Walter, “there come Mr. Trenk and Claudia, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


873 


a melancholy Jacques ; poor fellow, he seems to he seeking 
solitude !” 

“Say, rather, Walter, he is the stricken deer flying from 
the herd.” 

“ It may be, Morton, no love is lost between them, as the 
play hath it. But, like turtle doves, the birds of Venus, they 
keep their eyes to the ground, picking up the very crumbs 
of comfort, perl laps, from the basket figures on the carpet.” 

“ Claudia and Mr. Trenk !” murmured Helen. “ What 
talents and accomplishments are united' in the two.” 

“Too many for domestic purposes. Miss Nevil,” said Wal- 
ter. “ I fear they will never be lulled to connubial repose by 
the melody of the same tea-kettle.” 

“ Why not ?” asked Helen. “ Surely, Claudia is his equal 
in everything save — ” and here she looked after them, slowly 
moving onward in the crowd. 

“ Save one thing. Miss Helen, you would say ?” 

Miss Hevil slightly blushed, but was silent. 

“ Save beauty,” said Walter. 

“You must not slander, su’ !” exclaimed Helen, reproach- 
ful, with a sinile. 

“ If I do, I can pity, especially one of the softer sex.” 

“Do you know her well,* Mr. Parker?” 

“ Slightly. I never could pass the fatal picture.” 

“ Let me then speak for her,” interposed Helen, with ani- 
mation, which heightened her transcendent loveliness as she 
spoke. “ Let me speak for her. She is perfect, except in 
color. Her mind is cultivated beyond the scholarship of 
most scholars ; her talents are improved beyond accomplish- 
ments, till they are sciences. Her moral culture, her gene- 
rous heart, her feminine tastes, her fine sensibility, are each 
rare virtues in themselves. In her person she is beautiful. 


874 


THE METROPOLITES. 


tall, of exquisite shape, graceful as a fawn. Even her fea- 
tures are classic and faultless, without blemish, and beyond 
the criticism of a cynic. What, then, is wanting to make her 
the most lovely of her sex ?” asked the beautiful girl, blush- 
ing crimson at her own eloquence. 

“ Complexion !” repeated Walter. 

“Animation!” added Morton. 

“ These, you will admit, are her only defects ?” 

“ All, we believe,” answered both the gentlemen. 

“ Where, then, has one of us half of her attractions ?” 

“ Yet not one lady here would barter her good looks for 
these,” said Walter. 

“ But perhaj^s a gentleman might prefer them.” 

“Now let me speak. Miss Helen,” interposed Morton 
Burk. “ You have in a charming manner described Claudia, 
and justly. Far be it from me to disparage her in the 
slightest. Her want of a clear complexion makes her appear 
plain ; her want of animation repels us by her apparent, per- 
haps not real, coldness.” 

“ Do not gentlemen, in their attentions, extend only cold 
formality to her ?” 

“ How could you suppose we would exhibit much interest 
in one where beauty was wanting?” Walter suggested. 

“ Tlien why find fault, gentlemen, with her defect of ani- 
mation ? Has she not eyes and a shrinking sensibility ? 
Your manner would certainly not be inspiriting to the poor 
girl.” 

“ You believe, then, the icicle that hangs on Dian’s temple 
might be melted ?” 

“ Your dramatist is not a classic author in mythology,” 
answered Helen smiling, amused at the odd conceit of Walter, 
as she moved away in the passing throng with Morton Burk. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


875 


“Why is it,” asked Emma, who was left with Walter, 
“why is it the picture you speak of has such a repulsive 
notoriety ?” 

“For its artistic excellence. Miss Emma. It is, perhaps, the 
best painting ever executed in this country. The subject is, 
however, as you properly term it, repulsive. I cannot, for 
the life of me, imagine why a painter should sketch any scene 
that is not pleasing.” 

“ What is this you are discussing so learnedly ?” exclaimed 
the young and witty Mrs. Walters, approaching with Harry 
Dace and seating herself at the side of Emma. “ Painting, 
madam,” said Walter, “but do not frown ; we did not mean 
to be personal.” 

“ Who, then, was the object of your malevolence, if you 
wish me to believe you ?” 

“ A lady in colors, of course — just out of second mourning.” 

“ You might, in charity, Mr. Parker, suppose a lady laying 
aside her dark dresses and dismal sorrows should have color 
without artificial aid.” 

“ In my innocence of such knowledge, madam, I imagined 
mourning the blessed portion of feminine existence.” 

“ It is good to go to the house of mourning,” quoted Harry 
Dace. 

“ To the house of mourning-store goods is the modem ver- 
sion,” added Walter. “ When every stripe, pattern, texture, 
color, quality, for morning, walking, driving, dinner, and eve- 
ning wear has become hateful to the sight, a lady can find 
relief only in the grave — ^the grave of a friend. Then she can 
expend as much grief and gold as fancy and finances pemiit, 
to revel in the luxury of woe.” Perceiving Mrs. Walters was 
amused, he continued : “ On the stage, how they tear the pas- 
sions to pieces in ranting and grimace. But at the store, 


376 


THE METROPOLITES. 


more graceful, they tear the pieces into patterns, being much 
more dexterous in th^ manipulation of the articles. Such 
‘ little lambs of shawls ’ to cover a multitude of tribulations ; 
such a ‘ darling beauty’ of a cape, sinful to think about, but 
‘ so’ becoming ; such a ‘ perfect duck of a bonnet’ to pad- 
dle through a deluge of affliction. Sighs over black lace, 
tears over crape, groans at the price, and affected to fainting 
at visions of ‘ sweet ’ dresses in })erspective.” 

“You are wicked, Mr. Parker. I won’t listen to more,” 
she exclaimed, half rising to leave. 

“ Restrain your impatience, madam. I know I am not half 
the Christian of your cousin with white choker, the Dorcas- 
loving Sabina. But it would be good for him to go to a 
mourning store. Weed’s or Bartholomew’s — impressive names 
suggestive of cemeteries. Let Mr. Sabina catch the melliflu- 
ous words of the beautiful clerks — they have always hand- 
some young fellows, well-dressed, with extra yard-stick polite- 
ness. Their voices are intoned to suit customers;” Looking 
round wdth a start, he cried: “What has become of Miss 
Emma and Dace ?” 

“Gone to enjoy the artificial moonlight, flowers, and foun- 
tains, no doubt,” suggested the lady. 

“ To listen to some original poetry,” said Walter. 

“ Is he an author ?” she inqiured, with much interest. 

“ To be sure he is,” with one of his cynical smiles. “ Did 
you not know it ?” 

“ An author !” she exclaimed — “ An author of what ?” 

“Well, the story goes, madam, he has written the late 
new novel of ‘Hit Him Again — ^by William Patterson.’ ” 

“ If he surpass you in fiction, he must be a prodigy,” re- 
plied the lady, rising. “ But come, Mr. Parker, let us join in 
the pronienade.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


877 


Morton Burk was standing near the banquet hall in which 
he had been enjoying an industrious hour, and now was free 
from the crowd, conversing with some gentlemen where a 
luxurious suite of small rooms was almost deserted. He felt 
his arm taken by a lady, and turning beheld Emma Gray, 
with a sweet smile at his side, looking up in his face. “ How 
fortunate, Emma, that I have found you,” leading her to a 
remote seat. “Fortunate, indeed, for I have been looking 
for you in vain.” 

“ I thought you were more interested in other objects,” 
Emma replied, with much animation ; for she felt an unusual 
excitement in the brilliant scene. 

“ Still, Emma, I must think for my friends. Do you 
know what o’clock it is ?” with a quizzical smile upon his 
lip. 

“ What have I to do with time, Morton, when I am enjoy- 
ing myself now ?” 

“Remember, you wear to-night the glass slipper. Miss 
Cinderella ; and home you must go before the clock strikes 
twelve.” 

“ What is the penalty ?” 

“ Overshoes and woollen stockings, a flannel bathing dress, 
a pumpkin, mice, and all imaginary misery.” 

“ Heavy punishment, Morton ; what have I done ?” 

“Calling on the fairies; and you know from authentic 
nursery books they are spiteful little witches.” 

“ I hope no one envies me in this throng,” exclaimed tho 
little beauty, enjoying the covert compliment. 

“No one, did you say, Emma? Everybody is talking of 
your toilette — ^beautiful, brilliant, rich in fine taste, gems, 
rose diamonds, seed pearls, bracelets, laces ; and what more a 
hundred ladies only know.” 


878 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Tell me some of the ladies,” said she, delighted, turning 
her dark eyes upon him. 

“ Mrs. Slapdash asked Mr. Trenk if your taste and turn- 
out were not superb — the pi’ettiest in the world.” 

“ And what did Mr. Trenk say ?” 

. “ He replied he never saw its equal ; that all the ladies were 
in malicious ecstasies of jealous admiration.” 

Emma was now indeed in raptures with such encomiums, 
for she knew Morton was sincere. 

“ But ” said he, “ you had better go home before the fatal 
hour. Remember poor Cinderella ; and I will keep it all a 
secret that you have had spiritual rappings with the elfs, 
you little vixen.” 

“ But tell me, Morton, do you yourself admire my taste and 
toilette this evening ?” 

“ Indeed, Emma, it is most beautiful ; by far the most ex- 
quisite I ever beheld.” 

“ Then I ought to be happy when all my friends are pleased 
with me.” *■ 

“Now tell me, Emma, where did all this wealth of won- 
ders come from ?” 

“ Guess,” said she. 

“ Did you buy them ? no ! Borrow them ? no ! Pilfer 
them ? no ! Beg them then ? no !” 

“ Guess again, Morton.” 

“ A present ? no ! Did you find them ? no ! I give it up 
then. It is Cindei*ella over again. By the Piper, the pump- 
kin-eater, you had better go home, for the police will be in 
search of you.” 

“ I must tell you, Morton, all about it. I was in great 
trouble for something to wear. Indeed I was not coming for 
that reason. I wished Santa Claus had finery in his basket 


THE METROPOLITES. 


879 


to help me, and I fell asleep after breakfast, thinking of my 
misfortime, when Santa Claus sent his wife to see me on the 
subject.” ^ 

“ Was she dressed in this toggery, Emma?” 

“ No, indeed; absurd ! She had on Hessian high boots, a 
dozen of short, red petticoats, an old, large, straw bonnet — 
and such a bonnet, Morton !” 

“ Something like a deck-scuttle on a steamer ?” he sug- 
gested. 

“ Something like that, but not exactly shining black. She 
bade me come with her to choose for myself.” 

“ Of course you went. Feminine flesh and blood could 
not resist the oflTer ft-om old Henry himself. ’Twas dress 
swindled Eve, fig-m*atively speaking. F iill dress is still rather 
fig-urative. But go on,^ Emma.” 

“ She took me by the hand and led me, blindfolded, into a 
strange place where I had never been before. The chairs 
and tables, racks and clothes-lines, old trunks and open boxes, 
even the walls, were covered wdth all a lady could wish in 
dresses, laces, shawls, jewels, ornaments — everything imagi- 
nable. Pointing to a table, Mrs. Santa Claus said : ‘ Tere ai*e 
the robe, and laces, and gems worn by a beautiful American 
bride at an ambassador’s ball in Paris. It will suit for Mrs. 
Slapdash.’ I thought it would do ; but many, very many 
more were equally attractive. While I was hesitating which 
to choose, she pushed me out of the place, and I forgot to 
notice where I had been, my mind was so much occupied 
thinking on the display, until I found myself in my room 
again, and when I awoke these things were at my side.” 

“ You were asleep, Emma.” 

“ Indeed, Morton, it seems to me even yet only a delight- 
ful dream.” They paused to observe an unusual scone. 


380 


THE METROPOLITES. 


In one of the spacious apartments near to them they could 
witness through the open doors the waltzing, where many 
foreigners had congregated. Although space was ample for 
those engaged on the floor, still the crowd of spectators w^as 
great. In an interval of the amusement, when the orchestra 
had ceased, a strange gentleman, of fine appearance and 
handsome dress, slowly walked up the vacant centre alone, 
with his right hand upon his brow as if to shade his eyes 
from the light. At the further side he turned and slowly 
walked back, without changing the position of his arm. 
Leaving the room, he passed and repassed through the ban- 
queting saloons in the same attitude until lost to their 
view. But traversing various boudoirs beyond, much 
thronged, he kept on his way until, in a distant crowd, 
he felt his arm grasped, and a voice whispered at his 
back: “Enough; the signal is acknowledged.” Dropping 
his hand without halting, he walked forward to a paint- 
ing, in a massive frame, which hung upon the opposite 
wall, and with both hands behind him, he seemed to 
examine the piece with much interest. Slowly turning 
round he seated himself, as if exhausted and desiring 
rest. Charles ISTevil soon after had taken a position at 
his side. 

“ Will you permit me,” said he, addressing the stranger 
courteously in French, “ to examine the gem you wear out- 
side of your glove.” 

The foreigner raised his hand to the light with an air of 
indifierence that seemed to repel any further advances upon 
his attention. 

“ I have seen its mate,” said iN’evil, after looking at the 
precious stone. Still the stranger made no reply. “ The 
coincidence is singular,” added Nevil, “of two similar of 


THE METROPOLITES. 381 

sncli Strange device.” To this remark no response came 
from the unknown gentleman. 

“ Will you permit me to inquire if you have any friends in 
this city ?” 

The stranger made no answer, causing, however, no appa- 
rent surprise to his inquisitor ; and they both sat in silence 
without further words for some moments. 

“ Will not my unknown friend explain to me,” Nevil con- 
tinued, “ why he does not answer ?” 

“The crowd renders it improper.” Thereupon Charles 
Xevil handed his card in silence, which the gentleman took 
and examined. 

“Is Air. N'eiT.l a resident of this city?” To which question 
an affirmative answer being given, the stranger rose and left 
without even a parting salutation. But Ne\Tl still lingered 
in the apartment. Some time after the Spanish Consul-Gene- 
ral entered with the gentleman, and introduced him as the 
Alarquez of Las Cumbres. The official, with the usual tact 
of his nation, immediately withdrew, perceiving they desired 
to confer alone. 

“ With your permission, Air. Nevil, we w ill defer the pre- 
cautionary signals of recognition until to-morrow.” 

“ Upon condition, Alarquez, that you permit me to examine 
now the jewel on your glove.” 

“ Certainly, Air. Nevil,” said he, holding up his finger to 
the light as the gem sparkled in the blaze. 

“ Is that all, Alarquez ?” 

The gloved hand instantly fell, and no answer made. 
K’evil having challenged a revelation of the mystic signals, 
further conversation w^as by the statutes interdicted until 
the challenge was met by the proof. The Alarquez could 
decline to proceed ; but wffiile refusing he w^as not pennitted 


882 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


to speak to Nevil. Nor was Nevil allowed a greater privi- 
lege while the question remained open. 

The Marquez was silent and attentive, expecting Nevil to 
remove the embarrassment, as these apartments were not a 
fit place for further disclosures. And N evil was well aware 
of this when he gave the challenge. But it was given to put 
the Marquez to the test, as a reply would have revealed him 
an impostor. At last he approached the nobleman, and with 
a smile, said : “ The question is withdrawn for the present.” 

“ It is the first time it was ever put to me ; and with your 
permission, Mr. N evil, I would prefer postponing further dis- 
cussion on the subject.” 

“ I am happy to welcome you, Marquez, to our city, and 
hope your excellency will remain with us for some time.” 

“ My affairs call me soon to the continent, and, in truth, 
I deviated from the direct route home to deliver some letters 
and to find some one of the order. I had forgotten the name 
of the one in this country.” 

“ Is it an important matter, seiior Marquez ?” 

“ Is there a young lady of your name in this city?” 

“ Perhaps there may be,” Nevil replied. 

“ My question is not answered, sir !” 

“ I have a sister, now a young lady,” said Nevil, with sup- 
pressed anger, speaking through his teeth. “ Who dares to 
mention her name with disrespect ?” 

The Marquez drew from his pocket a small ivory tablet, 
and handing it to Nevil, said : “ That is her address.” 

Returning the tablet to the nobleman, Nevil asked if any 
danger threatened her at this time. The nobleman shrugged 
his shoulders. “ Upon hearing the facts, Mr. Nevil can form 
his own opinion.” 

Helen was at the moment in the ball-room with Nathan 


THE METROPOLITES. 


883 


Trenk,’ where they had been waltzing. She wa^ in a great 
flow of animation and enjoyment with the brilliant scene 
and moving panorama aroimd her. 

“ Why do you persist,” said she, "VNath a laughing smile 
while leaning on his arm, “ in calling her the Lady Dowager ? 
You ought to more respectfid to one so venerable from 
her age and position.” 

“ If you object, IVliss Helen, to the title, I know none half 
so appropriate. She is at the head of our patricians, the 
metropolitan aristocracy ; and I am sure Lady Dowager is a 
modest rank. Would you have me call her Countess or 
Duchess ?” 

“No, no, Mr. Trenk; we have no titles at all, and it is a 
shame to mock her with one.” 

“ But then who would confer rank and distinction if we 
had not her to call dormant families to the upper house ? 
She creates a batch of peers whenever her Ladyship wishes. 
Even to-night she has recognised several new names as 
worthy to be placed on visiting-lists of the most exclusive.” 

“ Who are they, pray tell me asked Helen, much 
amused in her gay mood. 

“ I only know some of them, these new people thus ele- 
vated. But one of my acquaintance is made happy, Mrs. 
Laura, who could have kissed her wrinkled hand and knelt 
in gratitude to the venerable dowager for the recogni- 
tion.” 

“ How strange this is, Mr. Trenk, in her hunting up old 
names, like Old Mortality hunting up moss-covered tomb- 
stones.” 

“ But it is nevertheless true. Miss Helen ; so they tell me ; 
for she does not know me, nor has she ever seen me. Mrs. 
Laura’s grandfather was a merchant in the Revolution, whc 


884 


THE METROPOLITES. 


trusted the army for supplies, and was ruined with the pay- 
ment of Continental money never redeemed. He failed, of 
course. His family was impoverished, and now Mrs. Laura 
is the fii'st of his descendants who could aspire to a position 
in society. She was deemed plebeian until this evening. 
Her old, proud, family escutcheon was found buried under 
several generations of nobodies.” 

“ Then the Lady Dowager, as you call her, is useful to 
some worthy people.” 

“ If conferring pleasure upon the deserving is usefulness, I 
think the old lady lives to some purpose,” said Nathan, as 
they moved rapidly through the rooms in search of Charles 
Nevil. The company were now fast leaving for their homes, 
and Nevil, when found, was well pleased at his sister’s pro- 
posal to call their carriage. 


CHAPTER XXXH. 

The next evening Nathan Trenk called upon Claudia. 
He knew he would find her at home and alone. The par- 
lors were, however, deserted, nor was any sound forthcoming 
from the music-room or boudoir beyond indicative of her 
presence. He had, therefore, ample time to collect Ins 
thoughts for the inter\dew, or to study once more the famous 
picture which hung conspicuously upon the wall of an inner 
room. It was a small painting, with a plain, black walnut 
frame. In the gilding and carving of the other rich orna- 
ments around one would be attracted by its simplicity 
alone. 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


385 


But the renowned picture was, no doubt, the work of a 
master. It represented a forest scene, a British officer of 
high rank wounded, sitting recumbent against a tree, hold- 
ing in his hand a pistol that had missed fire, aimed at an 
Indian warrior advancing in war-paint and feathers. The 
savage 'svIeMed an uplifted tomahawk, and in his left hand 
was the fatal scalping-knife. The officer, a colonel of Colo- 
nial troops, an ancestor of Claudia, was bleeding profusely, 
as life seemed ebbing fast from him. But in his livid coun- 
tenance were depicted hate and terror, with a despairing 
energy of passion convulsing his wan features with horror — 
horror so vivid, so life-like, that the painting was forgotten 
by the observer in the belief of the vision being a real scene 
at the moment. 

The light was thrown into the painting with such skill by 
the artist that, as the observer breathed, it imparted life to 
the figures till he imagined the blood fiowed from the 
wound ; the extended pistol-hand trembled, and the eye of 
the soldier flashed with a flickering animation. But the pas- 
sions on his ghastly lineaments appalled with a shuddering 
dread of impending danger. The spectator felt a dull com- 
ing over him like that which is caused by a terrific dream. 
He witnessed, in the most revolting aspect, intense passions 
stamped upon the marble features of a corpse. It was sel- 
dom a second view of the wounded colonel was desbed. 
Once seen the picture was never forgotten. 

The family legend transmitted of the artist was, that he 
had come to the Colonies in disgrace from England to avoid 
his creditors. Ills fame was high at home, but in his e::tra- 
vagance he resorted to disreputable expedients to raise funds. 
He had exeeuted, it was said, an order for a painting with an 
exorbitant price at the instance of a nobleman forming a 

17 


886 


THE METROPOLITES. 


private gallery, and produced a w.ork much extolled in the 
exhibition of the Royal Academy. But he was tempted by 
a large sum to make a copy without the consent of the peer. 
This act of bad faith brought ruin upon him and he fled. 
In America he had accompanied the troops into the wilder- 
ness against the native tribes, to be present with the 
colonel on the memorable day when the soldiers were 
defeated. 

The future career of the exile painter was not ascertained. 
But he left New York for France, while rumor reported he 
was seen at the foot of the guillotine, in the Reign of Terror, 
sketching the horrors of the basket into which the heads of 
victims fell severed by the remorseless knife of the revolu- 
tion. His passion for depicting horrors would naturally lead 
him to that historical saturnalia of blood. The story rests 
upon the report that he was met there by George Selwyn, a 
noted wit of the London clubs, himself an amateur in the 
terrific. But as it is very doubtful if Selwyn or other Eng- 
lishman ventured to Paris, even to gratify his inordinate pas- 
sion for the sight of human sufiering, nothing is authentic 
as to the future fate of the artist. His fame, however, for 
transcendent success in portraying mortal anguish, readily 
induced credence to this tale of his ultimate wanderings in 
search of the tragical. 

Claudia was of patrician descent ; but the family was now 
no longer opulent. She was the only surviving child of her 
widowed mother. They were gradually losing their position 
in the front rank of distinguished houses, from the inflated 
wealth of plebeian names around them, eclipsing their modest 
merit and long pedigree in the more shining attractions of 
their cash-books. The respectable in the metropolis are esti- 
mated by what they are worth in commercial admeasure- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


387 


ment. This is the only received standard of weights and 
measures among these worshippers of the golden calf, and the 
image of that sanctified animal among them is of colossal 
size. Fn a World’s Fair of such quadrupeds 'New York would 
gain the prize for the most approved breed of universal admi- 
ration. 

It is idle to repine at fate, and when power has departed it 
is useless to mourn for the loss. The mother of Claudia was 
too sensible not to perceive the downward tendency of the 
times to a reverence for gold dust. Ambitious for success, 
she followed the popular current. Her hopes for renewed 
splendor and renown were in a proper alliance of her daugh- 
ter. To this end, Claudia’s education was undertaken with all 
the zeal and unremitting attention bestowed on a novitiate 
for the ballet or lyric stage. She exhibited rare talents as a 
child ; her well formed person promised future beauty ; her 
mental improvement kept pace with her physical training. 
She was artless and graceful, her manners simple and win- 
ning. She was all her mother wished her to become. In 
return, Claudia loved her parent as excellent mothers deserve 
from their children. Above all, the daughter had imbibed 
her ambition. 

But one fatal perceptible defect remained. Claudia’s color 
was not good ; her complexion was pale, of an ashy hue. It 
was said by medical men that this would pass away, as it 
Avas attributable to a want of perfect health. It appeared at 
this time, however, to be permanent and incurable. Its efibct 
upon the young lady’s fortunes and distinction in society Avas 
soon felt. With all her superior talents and training, she was 
not a favorite. In truth, the attentions she received were 
soon perceh^ed by her to emanate from politeness alone. This 
discovery chilled the natural warmth of lier disposition, nor 


388 


THE METROPOLITES. 


did she desire to make friends by other than proper means. 
As a wit she might have been brilliant, even as a musician she 
was almost unrivalled, but neither wit nor music would confer 
the prestige at which she aimed. 

It was through her accomplishments she became known 
intimately to Nathan Trenk. Their congenial tastes made 
them reciprocally attractive. When he forgot by constant 
association the homeliness of her fice, he was not insensible to 
the exquisite symmetry of her person, and soon perceived the 
brilliancy of her mind along with the beauty of her moral 
character. They became the best of friends, while Claudia 
had even a more tender feeling for him without being aware 
of it. Her attachment was perceived by Trenk ; for a gentle- 
man, if he is not a fool, can soon fathom a lady’s mind upon 
that point when she is unguarded. 

He was too sensible, however, to care much for the dis- 
covery. He was pleased, to be sure ; but still he pitied her, 
as it was not requited. Is a gentleman certain of his feelings 
when he pities a lady ? Let him not be too sure of his aegis 
of pride and vanity. Pity has made as many conquests as 
beauty. A gentleman is forearmed against loveliness ; but 
against the sentiment of pity he is not forewarned ; he nou- 
rishes it and caresses it in his bosom until it becomes a pet 
difficult to part with. He would be ashamed to confess the 
robbery of a poor, plain girl’s affections ; it is no crime while 
unknown, but, like the Spartan theft, in the concealment the 
object eats into the heart. The race is not to the swift, nor 
the battle to the strong, nor the best match for the greatest 
belle. 

If Claudia had been taken to task by her mother for her 
growing attachment to Nathan, do you imagine she would 
have denied the charge ? Not at all; she would have frankly 


THE METROPOLITES. 


389 


confessed, or wliat site thought was a confession of the facts 
in the bill of indictment. Certainly she was attached to Mr. 
Trenk — one so agreeable, fascinating in his manners, well- 
dressed, fashionable, accomplished, rich, and the popular rage 
among the ladies. How could her mother imagine she was 
not smitten with him ? He was so delightful, enchanting ; 
and then, mother mine, in waltzing with him you s’wim, you 
fly, and feel your skirts inflated. The same in music ; you 
can make no false notes, keep no false time, nor want voice, 
for he has such a way of helping, that errors cannot be de- 
tected, while his performance appears your own, for which 
you get all the credit. The same again in conversation ; your 
remarks become brilliant, witty, appropriate, epigrammatic, in 
spite of yourself. I don’t know how it is, but every felicitous 
observation from him prompts two more at least in reply. 

INTow, mother mine, Mr. Ti’enk is a very useful, pleasant 
acquaintance ; for all ornamental purposes invaluable. But 
still you put thought upon your brow of wisdom, and caution 
me against going too far, against having my feelings enlisted, 
with a great deal more good, sage advice. But, mother, this 
is absurd, if I can say so with all deference to you. Is not 
Mr. Trenk a gay, dissipated young man, with* a very bad 
moral character, a gambler, and very extravagant ? Is he 
not proverbial for a keen sense of making money ? Too cal- 
culating to think of a poor girl like me, without coupons or 
color. Let him throw down his glove in the parlor centre 
crowded with our greatest beauties or fortunes, and they 
would aU rush to pick it up, even though their foreheads 
should come to a shock like gallant knights in the lists of a 
tournament. 

But what am I to do, mother mine, when he is so agree- 
able ? Am I to frown or be dignified and distant ? I am 


890 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


grateful for his attentions. I am, moreover, pleased and 
proud of them. If Mrs. Slapdash said we were a pair of 
turtle doves, surely it is better to be discussed as male and 
female mated in ornithology than be hung as a single espa- 
lier on the wall. I am not inclined to cultivate this branch 
in the science of horticulture yet awhile. People now-a-days, 
who preserve a dignified res^ve, are generally stupid. 
Mother, you have heard of thj^t numerous and ancient race, 
the De Trops. I do not envy their society, and will avoid 
being one of the family. But, mother, can you oblige me 
by looking among your work on the stand for the scissors, 
and I will try to please you in this pattern of my collar, if I 
cannot be a pattern in my conduct. Thank you, I am always 
losing them ; and now shall I send word to Mr. Trenk not to 
call again, as he is dangerous ? 

With such suggestions would Claudia have answered her 
parent had the subject been canvassed between them. But 
the mother had far too much confidence in her daughter’s pru- 
dence to suppose she needed any caution or advice as to her 
line of conduct with Mr. Trenk. The sagest of women have 
often made a similar mistake in trusting their children in 
such matters. Claudia felt confident she was fancy free, nor 
was she afraid of her affections becoming engaged to Mr. 
Trenk. Indeed she never had thought upon the subject at 
all. 

But still certain little attentions bestowed upon her by 
Nathan would not have been permitted by others. Some- 
times her hand remained in his for a moment when the waltz 
was ended, or a slight pressure weighed upon her shoulder 
in adjusting a shawl to her neck, or his arm would be near 
if not actually encircling her waist when conducting her to 
the piano. Now these trifling incidents were nothing, meant 


THE METROPOLITES. 


SOI 


nothing, amounted to nothing, but yet they were not unplou' 
f^ant. 

Sl)e thought of him "when practising certain pieces of 
music; and other airs were associated in tender memoiies 
with Nathan. No love was mixed up in these pensive mus- 
ings. She was not thinking of love. Had the thought of 
it flashed upon her mind in reveries of him, her delicate 
sensibility would have shrunk startled, frightened at the dis- 
covery. To entertain that feeling would militate against 
her plans ; it would clog her ambition, and, if known or sus- 
pected by others, her prestige would vanish — ^that is, if she 
had any prestige at all. 

Nathan was not a puppy, and yet believed she gave him 
an enviable preference — that she had a decided predilection 
for him. But he had no thought of bringing household 
cares as a damper upon his youthful pleasures in all their fas- 
cinating variety and success. Such an establishment would 
not promote his professional ambition. It would absorb too 
much of his valuable time, interfere with his habits of ease 
and comfort, to double his expenses. He did not aspire to 
the honorable position of head of a large and increasing 
family. Even now to be bouquet-holder for a few moments 
to a pretty belle was irksome, when he wished himself the 
busy-bee, ever on the wing, sipping sweets from every fra- 
grant petal in a metropolitan conservatory of beauties. 

Grateful to the unfortunate lady for her kind feelings, he 
amply repaid her by his attentions in return. His happiest 
hours were spent with her in social intercourse, often alone 
in conversation, when both exerted themselves to please, 
when both were brilliant, or in practising those accomplish- 
ments in which they excelh'd. His present visit was, by 
appointment, to discuss in advance of others a contemplated 


892 


THE METROPOLITES. 


fancy ball quietly spoken of but not divulged to the world. 
The rich Madame Raquetaque was the impressaria of this 
mighty undertaking. But she was afraid of a failure unless 
assured of the preliminary support of Claudia and Mr. 
Trc'nk. With such lieutenants she hoped to bring out the 
full strength of a fashionable excitement. 

Many questions were to be settled before fixing the pro- 
gramme for Madam Raquetaque. The music to be selected, 
the figures to be danced, the costumes to be worn, required 
mature deliberation. It was to discuss these points R'athan 
had now called on Claudia. When she made her appear- 
ance, therefore, in the parlor, her pleasure at his presence 
was perceptible, well knowing the object of his visit. In 
deciding upon costumes they readily agreed to recommend 
the time to be fixed in the reign and at the court of Louis 
XVI. of France. That era would allow greater latitude in 
the selection of characters and dress ; in the rich embroid- 
ery, with laces, satins, velvets, of antiquated courtiers, and 
the more plain apparel of the philosophers or levellers 
who were effecting innovations tending to our present 
fashions. 

Their conversation turned to the subject of music suitable 
for the antiquated figures to be introduced in the dancing at 
the fancy ball. In their interchange of opinions, after much 
had been said, Xathan remarked : “ The music most popu- 

lar in the last century is easily to be found if it be not known 
to our musicians; many old pieces have been always welcome 
to the public. ’They are emanations of healthy genius, 
natural, simple, and soon understood. They appeal alike to 
all hearts, to be received everywhere with equal favor. But 
when music does not possess this charm, the very soul of 
melody, it ceases to impart pleasure. And yet, much is tole- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


893 


rated because it has been composed by some celebrated 
artist, or patronized by some one of influence without taste 
or cultivation. Do not imagine this impossible or even 
strange among reflned circles. For every art or science has 
its enthusiasts, its fanatics, its insane votaries. These cause 
much mischief before their madness is discovered. Their 
minds are -warped with some monomania, and they distort 
tlieir favorite pursuit to their especial malady. Thus they 
fill the arts with objectionable works. They sometimes pro- 
duce music in which noise and confusion create a chaos of 
sounds destructive to harmony, to melody, to common sense ; 
fit only for an audience in Pandemonium, which might be 
called the infernal. In painting, they people- their canvas 
with repulsive figures and revel in horrors. Forgetting that 
the end of art is to give pleasure, they strive, with much 
time, labor, and genius, to disgust. But pardon me,” added 
Xathan, changing his tone of voice. “ It was not my inten- 
tion to extemporize a treatise on the Fine Arts in the presence 
of one from whom I could more properly and most grate- 
fully receive instruction. But you know our thoughts take 
erratic flights, even when they should array themselves in 
some pensive order.” 

“ Take me along with you always in such pleasant excur- 
sions, even if they be erratic. Your humble companion will 
promise to confess her happiness in an appreciating expressive 
silence,” exclaimed Claudia, with unusual animation. “ But 
do you wish your thoughts to don the pensive mantle in pur- 
suit of melancholy? Surely, it would be passing strange to 
find you sad, save only when in search of a novel sensation.” 

“ And why not, may I ask ?” answered Nathan, taking her 
gloved hand as he was seated at her side. “ Would you con- 
demn your captives to perpetual gaiety ? In mercy spare 


894 


THE METROPOLITES. 


them ; spare them in pity from such a doom. Display the 
common feminine benevolence which never allows a mortal 
to be supremely blessed.” 

“ Well, if you wish to be made miserable, it is the only 
favor I cannot grant,” she remarked, as a thrill of delight 
flashed through her nerves. 

“No one desires that, fair lady. But we wander from the 
point. To be pensive, even sad, is not the existence of the 
wretched. Tears are not always indicative of suffering. At 
this moment, in no light mood of mind, I would not barter 
my feelings for the world’s applause.” 

“ That world you speak of would be surprised to hear such 
sentiments from one of its fivorites.” 

And as Claudia gave utterance to the words, she felt his 
breath upon her neck and cheek, while his arm lightly encir- 
cled her, and a greater pressure from his hand fell upon her 
glove. She did not desire to meet his gaze, nor even to move 
lest the dreamy illusion entrancing her sense of propriety 
would pass away to dissipate the sweet spell upon her. 

“The world you speak of is not in reality my world,” he 
said, in a low, clear tone. “ An indefinable realm lies beyond 
the commonplace confines of life, where thoughts, memories, 
and even people whom you have loved and lost are your sub- 
jects, who come at your bidding to make you truly happy. 
Whatever was bright, was pleasing, was beauteous in the past, 
is buried in the past ; but its spirit, its ideal visits you to 
awaken the former sensations, purified into a delicious rap- 
ture. What other enjoyments are comparable with these, the 
aroma of them all, the imperishable reminiscence remaining 
when fragrance, beauty, and splendor of the flowers of pre- 
cious moments bestowed upon us have been buried long ago. 
In this dream-land of memories you now find me recalling 


THE METROPOLITES. 


895 


what has been, and perhaps noting this present hour as ano- 
ther treasure to be added to my rich possessions. I was 
thinking, sweet Claudia, of former scenes with you, re- 
membered and imperishable as the emotions now all absorb- 
ing and delightful.” 

“ But you mention those whom you have loved and lost 
coming back in remembrance to give you happiness. I was 
not aware you had bestowed your afiections upon any one, 
especially upon any one now no more. Grief for the dead, 
however, claims its sacrifice, and even thus your brightest, 
happiest moments must have their clouds of sorrow.” In the 
earnest expression of her thoughts she looked up in tlie beam- 
ing countenance of Mr. Trenk, to read in his eyes the glow 
of ardor and generous sympathy under which he thus, for the 
first time, breathed bis confidence to her. 

“ I have loved many who are gone ; perhaps innocent of 
all knowledge of my aflTection for them,” he replied. “ They 
were brilliant stars, illuming the horizon for a moment, to 
vanish, leaving a dazzling image of surpassing loveliness or 
of feminine excellence iu my keeping. I may not have che- 
rislied a selfish aspiration for their possession, yet, in the reli- 
gion of the soul, I am still their silent worshipper.” 

“ Sorrow for their loss should make you imhappy,” mur- 
mured Claudia, almost unconscious that she had spoken. 

“ Why should sorrow be a cause of unhappiness — for sor- 
row is a pleasurable emotion ?” 

Claudia looked up once more in amazement to see if she 
rightly comprehended the question. 

“ You seem to doubt, fair lady, the truth of such precepts.” 

“ I should wish those whom I loved to shed tears over my 
grave,” she answered, innocently, in the fulness of her heart, 

“ Your wish most certainly will be fulfilled. Yet I pray 


396 


THE METROPOLITES. 


you do not contemn my philosophy as Pagan and pernicious. 
You will live for ever in my memory, a constant thought of 
the pleasant past ; and if my emotions express themselves in 
grief, in regret, or sorrow, even in tears, still they will not 
be painful ; for we are so constituted that whatever is pain- 
ful in remembrance is soon forgotten or banished ; and you, 
dear Claudia, will never, I trust, be consigned to that obli- 
vion.” 

No reply was given to this assurance. In her present hap- 
piness she took no heed of the past or future. Never was 
her existence half so joyous as at this. moment ; and yet she 
felt a tinge of pensive, quiet sadness. The silence remained 
unbroken, nor did either desire to break it. After some time 
she resumed the conversatien in a different tone on another 
topic, as the fascination of the moment had faded away, to 
leave her composed in her mind to recall the previous portion 
of his observations before his thoughts and words had taken 
their intensely personal and no less interesting deflection. 
Ignoring all this scene, in Avhich her feelings had overcome 
her reason, she said : “ I think we must differ as to the uses 
of the Fine Arts. Something more than the pleasing can be 
found in them. Perhaps not in music ; but painting has other 
purposes. YTere you thinking of the fatal picture, as it is 
called, now before us, w’hen you extended your criticism to 
the arts in general ?” 

“ The sight of the picture,” Nathan answered, “ I will confess, 
suggested the misapplication of genius ; for I cannot believe,” 
he added, “ the scene in the forest was sketched for any pur- 
pose except to exhibit the surpassing skill and depraved 
taste of the artist.” 

“ In that, sir, you are mistaken. Painting is the sister art 
to history and biography, as music is to poetry. The paintei 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


397 


may have a higher aim than to afford pleasure only. He com- 
memorates actions and scenes of life. He grasps the pencil 
and brush instead of the pen ; he becomes famous in portray- 
ing truth instead of the beautiful.” 

But what motive then could have influenced the artist,” 
asked Nathan, “ to depict one of your ancestors with such 
repulsive features ?” 

“ The truth,” Claudia replied. “ To illustrate a family 
legend not known, or at least not understood out of our home 
circle. A tradition prevails among us that we are subject 
to strange vicissitudes of fortune, each crisis being marked 
by some scene in which the strongest passions that can con- 
vulse the human frame are exhibited. Of these you have an 
example in the picture. But tlie outbursts of these bad feel- 
ings are not fatal to us. On the contrary, they mark the 
commencement of renewed influence, success, renown. They, 
however, also foretell the destruction of happiness, peace of 
mind, of comfort to the fated individual. Worldly prosperity 
and mental misery are the lot 'of each one who has once had 
these passions called forth.” 

“ Was such the case with this Colonial colonel ?” asked 
Nathan. 

“ His history was not unlike that of his ancestors. The 
tale as told is, that he was successful in the encounter with 
the savage enemy, or with the supposed savage ; for if you 
obseiwe his features you will perceive his countenance is 
Saxon. He was of white blood, and fui'thermore a half-bro- 
ther of the old colonel. He was carried off by the Indians 
while a boy and adopted in the tribe. He was intimately 
known to the colonel when they were both boys.” 

“ It was a fortunate discovery that he recognised his rela- 
tion in the war-paint,” Nathan remarked. 


898 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ On the contrary, the savage, as he advanced to inflict the 
mortal blow, was seized with some superstitious terror and 
paused. Perhaps he bad a faint recollection of boyhood in 
the features of the wounded officer. However, while he 
hesitated, the colonel drew a second pistol and fired with a 
fatal aim. The savage fell dead at his feet. My grandfather 
was rescued by the soldiers to recover from his wounds.” 

“ It was then the savage who made the discovery ?” 

“ Such is the supposition,” said Claudia. “ But the colonel 
was still in ignorance of having slain his brother, whom he 
had loved when they were young. Soon after it became 
knowm that the savage half-brother was dead, when the colo- 
nel succeeded to the estates in enhiil as the next heir male. 
He w'as now in affluence, and the report of his slaying a re- 
nowned Indian warrior in single combat made him famous. 
He was at the zenith of prosperity and felicity.” 

“ But did he not dread the fate foretold and transmitted in 
the family tradition ?” 

“ He did not know he was one of the fated. He was not 
aware the repulsive passions had thrown their shadows over 
his coimtenance. They had been observed only by the 
savage, and he was dead. Subsequently he was appointed a 
commissioner to form a treaty with some tribes, and once 
more ventured into the wilderness to meet them. While in 
council with the braves, he was apprised by an aged chief 
of certain ficts, from which the colonel could not doubt by 
whose hands the half-brother fell. The information shocked 
the finer feelings of his nature ; his soul was convulsed with 
horror ; his features betrayed for the second time the fright- 
ful passions at work wnthin ; the savages were awe-struck at 
the spectacle, and the council broke up in confusion.” 

“ Is that .all of his history ?” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


899 


“You are aware of his rank in the army of the Revolu- 
tion,” Claudia replied. “ But his peace of mind was gone 
after the inteiwiew at the Indian council. His wealth and 
influence continued through life, till he died full of years and 
honors.” 

“ With such a legend,” said IN’athan, “ the picture becomes 
invested with additional interest. It is no wonder you hold 
it in high estimation above its intrinsic value as a work of 
art.” 

“ You will now admit, sir, that painting has other objects 
beyond portraying the beautiful ?” 

“ The pleasui e, I suppose, is to be found in the legend if 
not in the picture.” 

“ The tradition is interesting to me,” answered Claudia, 
“ but I do not know how it could be attractive to others.” 

“ All romance is fascinating.” 

“ Romance, Mr. Trenk ! Then you do not believe the 
story ?” 

“ It was not taught me when I was learning the longer 
and shorter catechism, and I am now too old to have my 
faith enlarged.” 

“ It is an innocent belief,” said Claudia, “ and I cherish 
the legend — ^now no more to be renewed, for I am the fast 
of the family.” 

“ And you are not a fit subject for fighting Indians in sin- 
gle combat,” added Nathan, smiling, as he bade good even- 
ing and took his leave. 

On his way homeward Nathan remembered he had pro- 
mised Mr. Tantis an interview for the following day, which 
he now resolved with some reluctance to keep with that 
unfortunate individual. 


400 


THE METEOPOLITES. 


CHAPTER xxxm. 

Mr. Taxtis was fast verging to insolvency. His affaii’s at 
this time were desperate. Every effoit to retrieve his for- 
tune had eventuated in failure. His petty creditors were 
importunate. His wants were many and his friends few in 
number. He had prevailed on Xathan to give him a hear- 
ing, as he wished to explain some schemes from which Tantls 
hoped for splendid results. 

Xathan had consented to give him an audience, partly 
influenced by commiseration for the poor fellow’s hard fate, 
and partly from considerations for Emma Gray, who was 
dependent upon her uncle. The character of Tantis, how-- 
ever, was too well known to Xathan to promise much good 
from an interview. Yet Trenk intended to assist him if 
possible, and at all events to encourage his efforts to improve 
his circumstances. Contemptible as Tantis had become 
from his petty tricks and deceptions, as well as from his arts 
of cringing and sycophancy, yet he was not wholly to be 
despised. He was voluble and amusing, and at times pos- 
sessed valuable information. 

The hopeful scheme that he now proposed to Nathan 
when they met in the morning by appouitment, was to sell 
to Sabina a native Bushman, captured at the Cape of Good 
Hope. To effect this negotiation, Tantis desired the aid and 
influence of Nathan. This new object of commercial specu- 
lation Tantis had received as a present from a friend, who 
was tired of the brute. Half human, half monkey, the 
Bushman was about three feet in stature, articulating some 
words distinctly, while its other vocal sounds were the gib- 
ber of an animal, or the imperfect gutturals of an inorganic 
language. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


401 


This caricature on humanity was dressed in a fashionable 
suit of black broadcloth. But while it was kept in good beha- 
vior by fear of the lash, still it could not be checked in its 
natural instinct to crawl on its hands and feet, and in that 
posture to run under or over chairs and tables with all the 
agility of an ape. It was hoped Sabina would be attracted 
by the new vocabulary of sounds to which it could give 
utterance. Nathan readily undertook to introduce Tantis to 
Sabina, and promised him all the aid in his power in effecting 
a sale of the precious article. But he could not hope for a 
favorable result. He was afraid Sabina had already learned 
its language, .a Bushman, in all probability, not being a 
novelty with one who had pushed his inquiries over every 
continent. He therefore gave Tantis a letter, who went on 
his way rejoicing. 

But the interview was not a success. Sabina knew all 
about a Bushman, imitating every sound it could utter, and 
even teaching the man-animal to articulate new words 
unknown to it before. But Tanti^ once having gained an 
audience of Sabina, resolved to profit by the opportunity and 
to tempt him with new projects. He therefore drew from 
his pocket an old deed on parchment, which purported to be 
a lease from Sabina’s maternal grandfather to Lionel Gray, 
and inquired if it were of any Value to him. He hastily 
scanned the contents and returned it to IVIr. Tantis with the 
remark that it was of no service, as he held a release that 
was of record. 

Mr. Tantis, on his return, exhibited the document to 
Nathan, requesting him to keep it, and if it were of any 
worth they would make some further use of it on their joint 
account. In the meantime, he hoped Mr. Trenk would favor 
him with a small loan for a few da3's, as he was short in 


402 


THE METROPOLITES. 


funds. Nathan readily complied with his request, and the 
unsuccessful speculator in the monkey traflSc departed, not 
without some consolation and money in his pocket to cover 
his immediate wants. 

Hopeful in his disposition, he could not, however, fail to 
reflect that the loan from Nathan must soon be exhausted. 
After various eflbrts in Wall street to accomplish some other 
profitable negotiations, he achieved nothing. Late in the 
evening, therefore, he gave up further attempts in despair, 
and turned his steps up town, slowly walking along Broad- 
way with many desponding, gloomy reflections. The lamps 
were lighted before he reached Union Square, and the low- 
ering clouds indicated a damp, rainy night. At a corner, 
Charles Nevil stood as though waiting for some one, and 
Tantis made a feint of touching his hat, doubtful if his salu- 
tation would be recognised by that wealthy gentleman. 

Mr. Nevil, however, not only returned the bow but 
addressed Tantis with some friendly greeting, detaining him 
as if desirous of further conversation. Tantis, only too happy 
to be thus received, was right willing to stop to await Mr. 
Nevil’s pleasure. Surprised and gratified, he could not 
divine the cause of this unexpected honor from such a dis- 
tinguished source. Certain, however, that Nevil had some 
motive for thus acting, he was content to bide his time for a 
solution of the enigma, and if possible to profit by it. 

Nevil had been apprised that two of Sabina’s spies and 
accomplices were, for several hours, following stealthily the 
footsteps of Tantis. They were not, at this time, far behind 
watching his movements, apparently with some evil designs. 
Presently they passed on the opposite side of the street. 
Soon after, two other persons followed in turn, watching the 
movements of Sabina’s men. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


403 


It was thus apparent to Nevil that the guard which he 
had set upon Sabina were performing their duty faithfully. 
The cause, however, of Sabina’s conduct to one so contempti- 
ble as Tantis was inexplicable, for he had nothing to excite 
cupidity or any other passion. Why, then, should Sabina 
have marked him as a victim ? This was worthy of further 
inquiry, and for that object had Nevil detained him. Indeed, 
he felt kindly to the unfortunate man from the fact that 
Sabina had some hostile intentions. 

Inviting Tantis to join him in a little dinner then prepar- 
ing in a fashionable restaurant in the immediate vicinity, 
they were soon ushered into a private room where the table 
seemed already prepared for their reception. The apartment 
Avas brilliantly lighted, adorned with rich furniture and a 
costly service of plate. Tantis could scarce realize his lines 
had fallen in such pleasant places. It was many months 
since he had ventured into luxurious retreats, and, above all, 
been blessed with choice company. 

• Charles Nevil knew the art of dining to perfection, and, 
moreover, was equally skilled in pleasing his guests. He 
was therefore not long in gaining the confidence of his com- 
panion, who was only too willing to serve the distinguished 
individual thus honoring him with an invitation, Hevil 
plied him generously with the choicest wines until Tantis 
lost all reserve and caution in his conversation. 

He talked, and his remarks were listened to with the most 
pi'ofound respect. He boasted of success in speculations, 
the arts practised, and the tricks, prevarications, petty false- 
hoods, mean devices, and shameless artifices, by which he 
had circumvented others. Still Nevil listened appi’oviiigly 
until Tantis, through his tongue, was turned inside out, 
revealing the contemptible inner man in all his insignificance 


404 


THE METROPOLITES. 


and shame. He seemed, from his own account, destitute of 
all good traits of character. Hevil could find nothing 
redeeming about him. 

He drew his attention to Sabina, and Tantis related all 
that had occurred in the interview of the morning, all that 
he remembered or deemed important. But he omitted to 
mention the old lease, as that seemed of no importance. 
Again Nevil questioned him as to Sabina. But nothing was 
elicited which furnished a clue to this watch upon his foot- 
steps. Nevil was aware something more remained to be 
told, but he felt confident Tantis was not suppressing the 
information intentionally. Could Sabina have any designs 
on Emma Gray ? 

Nevil led him on to speak of the pretty orphan girl. On 
this point, however, Tantis was less inclined to converse. 
He answered the gentleman’s questions with hesitation, and 
became cautious and reserved. Tt was soon apparent he was 
ashamed of his weakness in the presence of a shrewd man 
of business — of his weakness in affording a home to a penni- 
less gu'l from whom no profit could be derived. He ima- 
gined !N^evil would hold him in contempt. Ho man of sense 
or business tact would perpetrate such madness as to take 
home a poor girl, without a dollar, to hang as a dead weight 
upon his hands. 

But Hevil at last caught the drift of his thoughts, as he 
urged him with questions and suggestions, till Tantis, 
ashamed and abashed, reluctantly told her little history from 
childhood, and confessed that in a thoughtless moment he had 
taken her home. It was the only good action he related to 
Hevil ; yet it was the only action he blushed at when ac- 
knowledged. He inwardly cursed his fiite, which compelled 
him to divulge his folly, and thus lose his last hope of 


THE METROPOLITES. 


405 


making an impression on ^^^evil as to his shrewd business 
habits. 

“ Then you took the inhmt home because she had no othei 
friend to provide for her ?” 

“ It was so, and I cannot help it.” 

“You gained nothing by the operation, Mr. Tantis?” 

“ I can’t say I have,” was the hesitating answer. 

“ What do you hope to have as a recompense for the deed 
of kindness ?” 

“ ISTothing, Mr. J^’evil, for the greatest weakness of my 
life,” replied Tantis, as he kept his eyes upon the plate, play- 
ing with his fork. 

But lie would have been much encouraged had he looked 
up and perceived the beaming smile of satisfaction on de- 
vil’s manly countenance, and the moistening of his eye, 
almost to glisten with a forming tear of pity for the helpless 
orphan. He felt an interest awakened for the man who had 
befriended the destitute child, and he mentally resolved to 
aid him. 

“It was generous, however, in you,” said Nevil. 

“ But generosity don’t pay.” 

“ It jifTords its own recompense sometimes.” 

“ But in this instance, Mr. N’evil, it is a dead loss to 
me.” 

“ Perhaps you will hereafter be rewarded. But at present, 
to talk on more important matters, I think you can employ 
your time now more profitably in watching the stock mar- 
ket.” 

“ I agree with you,” Tantis replied, hastily, “ if I only had 
funds wherewith to operate.” 

“ Tliere will be no want of them when the opportunity 
offers for investment. If you are inclined to turn your atten- 


406 


THE METROPOLITES. 


tion in that quarter, call on Mr. Martin at eleven to-morrow, 
and we will then talk further on the subject.” 

Tantis was elated at this prospect of good fortune, and as 
the dinner was now over, he hastened up street on his way 
home, with visions of untold millions floating through his 
fertile imagination. The spies, however, of Sabina were 
again on his track, and while dreaming of a long career of 
financial success, there was some danger the speculator would 
be food for the fishes in the river before morning. He had 
now quitted Broadway, and turned down an intersecting 
street in which was his dwelling. The lamps shone brightly, 
but the pavements were deserted, without any one in sight. 

A man passed along on the opposite side at a rapid walk, 
and was soon lost in the dark in front.* When out of observa 
tion of Tantis he crossed the street, as he slowly returned to 
meet him. Approaching, he politely requested to know the 
time of night. But Tantis, preoccupied wdth his pleasant 
fancy speculations in the future, hastily replied he had no 
Avatch in his pocket. Hereupon the stranger Avished to ascer- 
tain the distance to the Fourth Avenue, ' and stopping in 
front, prevented his Avalking forAvard. Tantis, thus compelled 
to pause, advised the man to inquire of the police. But the 
stranger, observing his accomplice, who had followed Tantis, 
approaching from behind, detained him with further inqui- 
ries. 

As the second man drew near, two persons from the oppo- 
site pavement crossed the street and leaned in silence against 
an area iron-railing to Avitness the meeting. But being espied 
by the one in conversation with Tantis^ the future millionaire 
Avas no further molested, being permitted to pass without 
longer detention. Thus released, he walked on again, not 
suspecting the danger he had escaped, until the two last 


THE METROPOLITES. 


407 


comers overtaking him, requested him to “hold up for a 
moment.” 

Vexed at this second interruption, Tantis would have dis- 
regarded their wishes had not one of them remarked, as he 
came close to him : 

“ I am afraid, Mr. Tantis, you do not know them men that 
you were talking to back there just now.” 

“Well, what of that, sir?” 

“ Nothing to me ; but if you don’t want a rap over the head 
and a sticking-plaster over your mouth to keep you quiet, 
you had better give them a wide berth.” 

“ Thank you, my friend,” said Tantis. “ But who are you ?” 

“ Only a shadow watching them fellows all this night. 
They have spotted you for somethen or nuther, and if you 
don’t keep, your eye skinned you will be a goner.” 

“ But I am now near home ; there can be no further trou- 
ble to-night.” 

“ Don’t be too sure of that. If you move on we will see 
you safe, for them fellows ^vill circumvent you if they can.” 

Thus admonished, he walked forward with the shadows as 
an escort till he arrived at his front door. Thanking them 
for their assistance, he hastily entered his home, right glad he 
had escaped by unexpected aid from an unforeseen danger. 

It would have been an unprofitable undertakhig in the spies 
of Sabina had they effected the capture and robbery of Tan- 
tis. The deed for which they were in search was not in his 
possession. Already had Nathan Trenk examined the lease 
and retained the parchment, while Tantis, ignorant of its con- 
tents and value, was almost made a victim in the mistake. 

The lease from Sabina’s ancestor was for a teiun of ninety- 
nine years, at a nominal rent, for a tract of vacant land on 
the island, but now far within the city, covered with streets. 


408 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


squares, and expensive buildings. It had been uninclosed 
ground at the deatli of Mi*. Gray, as the writing was exe- 
cuted only the year previous to that event. The right of 
Emma’s father to the property being unknown, new deeds 
had been made by Sabina’s relations for portions sold as 
building lots, while much still remained undisposed of by 
them. 

When I^^athan mastered the contents of the writing, and 
examined the city map to ascertain the boundaries of the 
land embraced in it, he thought what a princely fortime 
would fall to Emma were it not for the release mentioned 
by Sabina. He therefore put away the parchment carefully 
in his iron safe, resolved to thoroughly investigate the title 
when Tantis should again call to consult him about it. But 
as Tantis already believed the lease was without value, it is 
evident there would be no further discussion in relation to it. 
Xathan would not recur to the subject in the absence of 
Tantis, and thus the orphan’s interest was sacrificed. The 
natural inference with Xathan was, from Tantis giving up 
the search, that he had discovered the release spoken of, 
which would nullify the interest of Mr. Gray in the property. 

Ill truth, Tantis, soon after the day he dined with Mr.- 
Nevil, becoming absorbed in stock speculations, was said to 
be on the high road to fortune. He was now in funds ; he 
was out of debt. He was lucky in every venture in the 
stock market ; be had abandoned every speculaiion except 
buying and selling securities on time. His thoughts and 
conversation were all upon the rise and fall of shares in the 
public enterprises of the country. When he met Xathan he 
spoke only of the daily quotations at the board of brokers. 

He had not exhibited the deed for Emma’s benefit, but to 
sell it for his own profit. Her interest had never given him 


THE METROPOLITES. 


409 


a moment’s reflection. It was to raise money for his own 
purposes which induced him to ofler the writing for sale to 
Sabina. But now, being free from pecuniary pressure, he 
had forgotten its existence ; and when he met Sabina he 
passed him hastily as a gentleman of no further use to him. 
lie smiled as he recalled his first interview, and the import- 
ance which he had then attached to it. On the contrary, 
Sabina now wished to detain him when they met, to hold 
some conversation. But Tantis, always engaged, in great 
haste tore himself away without much ceremony. Thus Sabi- 
na was foiled in his eflbrts to revive any negotiation about the 
ancient lease. 

Emma was the connecting link between her selfish uncle 
and good society. He was consequently proud of his niece, 
who thus added importance to his family connextion. Nor 
was he penurious in his^ style of living when he had means to 
gratify his habits of extravagance ; and being attached to her, 
she profited much by his recent change of fortune. He 
encouraged the accejrting invitations, and right willingly 
jDlaced whatever funds were needed at her disposal for her 
proper appearance on all occasions. 

When fashionable and much noted entertainments were 
spoken of down-town among his friends, he was always well 
informed. When asked if he had been one of the invited, 
he would reply he never went to such “ gatherings,” but left 
them to his niece, who had of course gone, as she was fond of 
them. 

The impression soon prevailed he v/as on intimate terms 
with all the patrician families, but that, from his habits and 
tastes, he disliked parties, consigning to Emma the task of do- 
ing the honors and hospitalities for his household. Delight- 
ing in amusements, he was most happy in escorting her to the 
. 18 * 


410 


THE METROPOLITES. 


public exhibitions, the theatres, concerts, oratorios, and operas. 
His attention to her was of a most parental character, and 
apparently to her friends it seemed as if he were a most 
affectionate, kind, and considerate uncle. They were pleased 
to see the poor orphan had such a generous relative. Nevil’s 
mother spoke of it with much satisfaction. Hevil himself 
observed it with pleasure, and consequently to the uncle’s pro- 
fit. For Nevil, perceiving his generosity to Tantis had bene- 
fited Emma, was inclined to continue his aid and counsels, 
w’hich had raised him from want to independence. But little 
did Tantis know his kindness to Emma had been the sole 
cause of his present prosperity. 

When it was rumored that Madam Raquetaque was about 
astonishing the gay world with a fancy ball, he laid his com- 
mands upon his niece to prepare for that event, and satisfied 
her shrinking scruples that his purse was ample to meet any 
demands which her wants for that object would require. He 
aspired, moreover, to some refined tastes on his own part, 
and was a constant attendant at the opera. No doubt in a 
short time he would have been a noted amateur, with equal 
merit with many others with similar ambition. But unfor- 
tunately on one occasion, late in the afternoon, he declined 
entertaining a business proposition at that hour, as he Avas 
engaged to go home and escort some ladies in the evening to 
hear the magnificent opera of Napoleon in Egypt. 

This was an unfortunate mistake in a name, as it indicated 
his profound ignorance, which turned the laugh against him 
whenever mentioned, even with those who never read a 
libretto. But Tantis did not discover his blunder until all 
the brokers in Wall street had heard of it ; their circulation 
of the story effectually ruined any further hopes of his oraim 
ing reputation as a lyric connoisseur. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


411 


Always scbeining for notoriety, he next essayed to attract 
the attention of the old Lady Dowager. It would have been 
a proud day for him to have seen her carriage and servants 
in livery stopping at his door, while she was within the house 
on a visit to his niece. But he could not prevail upon Emma 
to throw herself in the way of the ancient lady, or to intrude 
upon her notice when they met in society. The poor girl 
knew she was an object of dislike, so that her natural deli- 
cacy of feeling revolted at the thought of forcing a recogni- 
tion. But her uncle was incapable of appreciating such sen- 
timents in his niece, who, he declared, was throwing away 
every chance of reconciliation with her rich and distinguished 
relative. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

It had been observed the old Lady Dowager was seen this 
season more frequently in public than usual for many years. 
Xot only at the great entertainment of Mrs. Slapdash, but at 
the evening reunions of other friends, was she constantly to 
be found. She seemed to have obtained a new lease of life 
and its enjoyments. Animated in her conversation, attentive 
to those whom she recognised, her cheerfulness and amiable 
deportment threw a charm around which rendered her popu- 
lar with young and old. 

The glare of light in the brilliantly illumined parlors, how- 
ever, somewhat impaired her vision, which rendered it diffi- 
cult at times for her to distinguish, in crowded rooms, those 
with whom she was most intimate. But her sense of hearing 
was perfect as ever, and every well-known voice always came 


412 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


welcome to her ears. No matter on wliat key a conversation 
was pitched, even at a whisper, she seemed capable of catch- 
ing all the intonations and inflections of sound. Wlien not 
engaged with friends she was attentive to the conversation 
of others near to her, or listening to the music which came 
from harp or piano, or the human voice. 

The reaction in her feelings when she returned to her soli- 
tary home, amid all its grandeur, was not so well knowm to 
the public. But there Avhen alone, in communion with her own 
thoughts and thick-crowding memories of the past, her fits of 
despondency became more frequent, of a deeper gloom. Her 
former agony of soul, with the pangs of despised love, came 
back to haunt her. Fifty years rolling over the events of 
her girlhood, had not yet buried them in the grave of forget- 
fulness. The last half century was a blank in her memory — 
a narrow gulf, beyond which her mental view ranged to the 
shores and scenes of her virgin life, now recalled with all their 
vivid distinctness and freshness. She forgot nothing of that 
distant penod of time, nor did the remote incidents fail to 
revive once more the passionate anguish with which they 
were engraven on her heart. • 

Now she recalled sailing on a summer’s eve on his light 
schooner, when he talked to her of the distant climes he had 
visited and the happiness they would have when revisited 
again with her as his bride. Now her memory dwelt upon 
a moiTiing in spring beneath the cherry trees in bloom, when 
they wandered through the verdant lanes on Brooklyn 
Heights — when he talked of love and the bright future before 
them. Now she remembered the smell of the wild flowers 
and lilac blossoms of that vernal morning. She recollected 
the old trees and roads with which their path was marked. 
Once more she could see the day when on horseback they rode 


THE METROPOLITES. 


413 


beyond Pavonia to fly their hawks at game in the marshes. 
She imagined her pet bird was still perched on her wrist — 
the bird she had tamed and trained, made gentle by days and 
nights of incessant care. How spirited her white palfrey 
on that day; how gallant he rode on his powerful horse. 
She could still hear his ringing voice, she could still see his 
smiling, beautiful countenance, she could still feel his tall, 
manly presence at her side. 

What joy and rapture came over her when she thought 
once more of these happy days. But her aged frame was too 
weak for such excitement to last. Her nerves would fail, and 
then, drooping with the reaction, gloomy reminiscences of 
his shameful perfidy and desertion filled her mind with horrors, 
until she groaned aloud in sorrow and despair. Frenzy 
would agitate her frame — she would rush through her many 
stately, silent apartments, unconscious of her actions, to sink 
to the floor from sheer bodily exhaustion, with mental pros- 
tration. Her attendants would hasten to her aid to minister 
alleviating stimulants, tiU she was once more calm and re- 
stored. 

Seated in her ample cushioned chair, with her head resting 
on her emaciated hand, she would mutter aloud unintelligible, 
incoherent phrases, indicative of 'mental aberration. But she 
was not mad. She knew her own thoughts, and well did she 
comprehend the thoughts of her faithful domestics around her. 

“ They believe my mind is gone,” muttered she, in soliloquy. 
“ They believe I speak aloud all that crosses this heated brain. 
They catch words here and there, and suppose I utter every 
sentence formed. But they hear only a word on each page 
of the daily chapter coined in this too busy intellect. They 
catch stray leaves from my book of life, and imagine them 
the whole volume of my memory. Would that I were mad — 


414 THE METROPOLITES. 

that I could remember only the bright days of the past, the 
sweet fancies with which they were blessed. Would that I 
could forget my wrongs, be relieved from their pain. Would 
that I could shut out my remorse for withholding aid when 
the world crushed him. I could have saved him, and noAV 
my misery would be less. But I thought of that weak crea- 
ture, that doll, whom he had taken to his arms as his wife ; 
it was she I hated — with a deadly hate. She had usurped 
my place, and I would not help him in his second wrong 
to me. 

“I dreamed that he turned his large, blue eyes, with their 
long, heavy lashes, upon me imploringly, and wept. I dreamed 
he prayed to me to help him from ruin, from dishonor, from 
the grave ; yet I refused him in my love because I hated her, 
still to hate her offsin-ing. This was madness, insanity, the 
rash resolve of an idiot. Remorse has now come upon me 
to punish me with its scorpion stings for this. He could still 
have loved me had I befriended him. I might have been his 
benefactor. But he died — died without telling me wherefore 
he had been so cruel. Would that I could see him once more 
to beg forgiveness. All my fortune would be his, and he 
should be happy. 

“Yes, I shall see him again ; his image is always before me 
I have heard his sweet ringing voice. It is for this I visit 
scenes of dissipation and pleasure. In the confused noise and 
babble of many talking I have heard his tongue many times. 
Once I heard it even here, in this home of mine. He will yet 
come to bless my sight. Why do sounds of him hover through 
the air, to come near me in crowds when I hear him more 
distinctly ? If my eyes were not failing I might see him. 
Was ever human being foraied with such melody of tones. 
Was ever one who could imitate his sweet notes? Yet I 


THE METROPOLITES. 


415 


have heard them often of late, and I shall hear them again. 
It is no illusion of the senses, for all other sounds are natural 
and understood properly by me.” 

With this explanation it is easy to comprehend the feelings 
and motives which drew the Lady Dowager into company. 
A monomania had seized upon her. Believing she was 
destined to see her Lionel, it is possible she mistook some 
phase of the buzz of conversation in crowded rooms for fa- 
miliar sounds remembered from times long past away. She 
might, indeed, hear a voice that resembled his. But it was 
an infatuation to suppose he could rise from his grave in youth, 
beauty, and health, to bless her aged eyes. This was her 
madness, not her detached phrases, which when combined were 
unmeaning. But it gave her life, and hope, and energy to 
pursue her career among fashionable people in public. 

Whenever she remained at home for the evening, Morton 
Burk was released from attendance. She had declined an 
invitation to the fancy ball, although urgently solicited by 
Madam Kaquetaque. Morton, therefore, made his arrange- 
ments for his costume and movements on that evening with- 
out being required to wait as usual for her convenience. He 
had selected a rich uniform to represent the Commander of 
the Swiss Guards, and arranged to accompany Nathan Trenk 
in his carriage. 

But Nathan was delayed in some preparations in conse- 
quence of his dress not being finished by the tailors till the 
last moment. He was arrayed in the fashion of an American 
gentleman visiting the court of Louis XVI., a prevailing style 
at home for years, even within the present century. It was a 
blue velvet suit, with crimson vest, much lace on his bosom 
and wrists, with silver knee and shoe buckles. His hair was 
powdered, plastered with pomatum, and gathered behind in 


416 


THE METROPOLITES. 


a silk bag tied with a black ribbon. He wore a short sword 
or rapier fastened with a fancy leather belt and diamond clasp. 

After the two gentlemen set out for the gay scene, Morton 
discovered some of his military trappings required inspection 
and alteration before entering for the campaign. They there- 
fore drove to his home, Avhere the tailor was still in attend- 
ance for any emergency. Requesting N'athan to walk into 
the paiibrs to wait for him, Morton ran up stairs to his dress- 
ing-room. i^’either of the gentlemen was thinking of the 
Lady Dowager, who, it might be supposed, was in some 
inner secluded apartment. But she had wandered down to 
the most distant of the suite on the first floor, where she sat 
in a dim light ruminating on the sweet and bitter fancies of 
her fertile mind. , 

The communicating doors were partly open throughout 
the whole extent. Her attention, however, was too much 
absorbed in her own reflections to heed the noise of the 
gentlemen in the front hall. She sat with her head resting 
upon her hand, with her eyes fixed on the carpet. She was 
thinking of the fancy ball, while her memory went back to a 
brilliant entertainment of the Spanish Minister w^hich she 
had attended with her Lionel as an escort. She could 
remember his gay and beautiful dress, his still more hand- 
some face and figure. Quiet and calm this evening, she was 
more rational, to sigh once more at the thought of him so 
many years in his grave, -when the sudden sound of the 
})iano, and a voice singing 

“ Shepherds, tell me, have you seen 
My Flora pass this way ?” 

in the front parlor, caused her to look up. 

Near the brilliant chandelier in the centre of the drawing- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


417 


room was lier Lionel at last, such as he appeared to her on 
that happy evening. He had come indeed in youth and 
bloom, in the befitting apparel she loved so well. He was 
singing his favorite song. He moved, he looked in the mu*- 
ror and adjusted his sword-belt. It was no illusion for her, 
and uttering a cry, she sprang forward with the bound of a 
girl, forgetful of her age and decrepitude. 

But her frail limbs refusing aid to her buoyant spuit, she 
sank to the floor, her forehead striking the coiner of a 
table in the way. The blood flowed profusely from the 
W'oimd, while her faithful attendants rushing in, bore her off 
insensible in their arms. The communicating doors being 
bnmediately shut by the domestics so soon as they were 
apprised of the accident, neither Nathan nor Morton was 
aware of what had happened when seated once more in the 
carriage on their drive to quite a different scene. 

Dancing had not yet commenced when the two gentlemen 
made their bows and compliments to the fashionable and 
fascinating jVIadame Raquetaque. The ladies had not yet 
critically examined the toilets of each other. They had not 
learned all the historical personages intended to be repre- 
sented in the gay party. Slowly, however, moving among 
the groups assembled in the brilliant rooms, they were 
gradually comprehending the extensive variety of costumes, 
of tastes and fancies, which the impressaria had collected 
around her. Not much conversation was heard where all 
were intently engaged in scanning the rich and antique 
dresses, to withdraw their attention for an amusement less 
absorbing. 

But the gentlemen had finished their preliminary observa- 
tions on the company. Some few were standing around, 
freed from service on the ladies, waiting for the music to 

18 * 


418 


THE METROPOLITES. 


summon them to the ball-room. Walter Parker, in the cha- 
racter of Mirabeau, had collected three or four near him to 
listen to his eloquence, for he was in a talking spirit to night, 
with a most cynical vein of ill-humor, which, with difficulty, 
he repressed. He had a vague presentiment of some un- 
lucky incident to happen, making him nervously voluble, 
while he felt a depression at heart. He was too well trained 
and too much of a gentleman, however, to exhibit his unfor- 
tunate feelings in such a pleasant circle. But his asperity 
put a keen point upon his wit, and made up in sarcasm what 
it lost in real merit. 

“ She is beautiful, lovely, to-night,” said Pactolus, 
alluding to a young widow who had attracted their atten- 
tion. 

“ Angelic sweetness is in her countenance,” added Harry 
Dace. 

“ Enough of the saccharine essence in her composition to 
sweeten a sugar plantation,” remarked Morton Burk. 

“ But unfortunately it soured upon the temper of her hus- 
band,” said Walter. “Had he been a Turk he would have 
shipped her on a sack-her-in voyage, and probably prolonged 
his own life.” 

“ It was kind in him to die and leave her rich and free,” 
Pactolus replied. 

“ Behold yon pretty creature, the blonde in bridal cos- 
tume ! She walks in beauty like the night robed in clouds 
of millinery, a zone of diamonds, and with a diadem of snowy 
pearls. She breathes of Ormus and of Ind. Who is this 
bright star of eve, rising resplendent on the brilliant hori- 
zon ?” exclaimed Dace, enraptured with the vision. 

“ That young woman,” answered Pactolus, “ was the late 
Miss Charlotte de Russe.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


419 


“ They say,” added Burk, “ that since her marriage she 
lisps no more.” 

“ Very probable, because she has a new set of words.” 

“ Or a new set of teeth,” Walter sunnised. 

“ Are they set to music V? 

“ Rich she must be,” Mr. Dace remarked, “ from the gems 
so rare on exhibition.” 

“ Her father came down handsomely at the dejeune,” Pacto- 
lus said. “ The new-made husband foimd under his plate a 
check for a hundred thousand.” 

“ Certified, no doubt,” Mr. Burk supposed, “by the pray- 
ing teller of the Tenth and Broadway conjugal institution.” 

“ But, Mr. Pactolus, you had better take her sister,” Dace 
suggested. “ She is just forty.” 

“ I would not have her if she were just fifty,” was the in- 
dignant answer. 

“ Bearing in mind the check under the plate, what do you 
say, Mr. Parker ?” 

“ I thank you. Dace, for your generosity with other peo- 
ple’s goods to me endow. But check-mates are disagree- 
able.” 

“ Not for gold or plated ware would he leave his mountain 
home,” hummed Morton, in basso profunda^ to a popular 
song, with a slight variation in the stanza. 

“ Gentlemen, you are wanted for your places in the ball- 
room,” cried Nathan, approaching. 

“ Under such a leader as Mr. Trenk I go forth to conquer,” 
exclaimed Walter, moving away to seek his lady-partner. 

“ Gentlemen, you will please take your places in the ball- 
room,” repeated Nathan, to various groups, as he walked 
slowly through the sumptuous suites of spacious saloons. He 
was the master of ceremonies, duly commissioned by Ma- 


420 


THE METROPOLITES. 


dame Raquetaque. He regulated every movement, was ap- 
pealed to in every difficulty ; he retrieved evey unforeseen 
accident and mistake. How many ladies did he make happy 
by judicious aid m supplying partners. How admirably he 
arj-anged a wanting vls-d-vis. The leader of the music had 
frequently to ask his counsels when the programme was 
changed in consequence of unforeseen obstacles. 

Mr. Trenk was the mos:; popular gentleman present in that 
brilliant assembly. The name of Mr. Trenk was on every 
tongue ; his praises were sung by all in one grand chorus ; 
his opinions were the law unto that multitude ; his words 
were words of wisdom, quoted with the reverence due to re- 
scripts of a sage. 

But Nathan was withal quiet and unobtrusive. He was 
always to be found at the right place, and then moved away 
attentive to all alike, thus contributing to the general plea- 
sure by his judicious arrangements and timely suggestions. 
He knew a fancy ball must be a succession of fascinating 
novelties to be a success, and novelties are dangerous experi- 
ments in such places. But he believed he could master the 
difficulties as they arose, hence his constant care to carry out 
the daring design sketched in the enterprising diversities for 
the evening’s entertainment. His reward was found in the 
sweet smiles, the loud encomiums universally bestowed upon 
his skihul exertions. He felt happy, for in his kindness of 
heart in contributing to the pleasure of his friends, an ample 
recompense was in store for himself. 

Two or three times in the crowded ball-room he endeavor- 
ed to catch the eye of Mr. Chester, the rejected gentleman of 
the clubs. Nathan had recognised him as an old acquaint- 
ance seen in Mr. Parker’s office before his college days. Since 
then Mr. Chester had been in the East as a consul, but when 


THE METROPOLITES. 


421 


his name was proposed at the club of “ Babes,” Nathan was not 
aware he was the same person. Now he wished to renew 
the acquaintance, but the hauteur of Chester’s manners was 
repulsive, while it was evident he did not remember Nathan’s 
features. 

When waiting for a favorable opportunity to speak to him, 
Chester had been struck with the frequent mention of the 
name of Mr. Trenk. Everybody had something to say of Mr. 
Trenk ; not to know him was deemed passing strange. Mr. 
Trenk, Mr. Trenk, thought Chester; surely he had once 
known some one of that name ; the most accomplished gentle- 
man in the city, highly skilled in music, dancing, in all 
modern languages ; rich, handsome, and of a distinguished 
family. What distinguished family ? Where did he come 
from, that he should not have known him as a boy ? 

While he was thus cogitating, his eye fell upon Walter Par- 
ker amusing a bevy of ladies with his sprightly remarks. 
Chester remembered his old habit of indulging in hyperbole 
when they were young lawyers together ; he remembered his 
old uncle of the inner office ; he remembered the office-boy 
who knew everything. What had become of that youngster 
from Randall’s Island? — ^vicious of course, ruined with flattery, 
no doubt an outcast again, ending his career as he had com- 
menced it in some charitable institution. Tunc was a queer 
sobriquet for the lad ; Nunc Pro Tunc, because his first name 
was Nathan and his last name was what ? Let me remember, 
for it was not Tunc. Nathan P. Tunc, that was not the name, 

“ Come, Mr. Chester,” said the young lady, who was lean- 
ing on his arm, “ Mr. Trenk says the next figm-e is called 
and the music has commenced.” 

“ Mr. Trenk did you say. Miss Julia ; pray tell me his first 

name ?” 


422 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“Why Nathan, to be sure, sir. Everybody knows 
that.” 

“ Nathan P. Trenk ; that’s it,” muttered Chester ; “ the ple- 
beian puppy, palming himself on society as patrician and 
wealthy.” 

“ This way, this way. Miss Julia,” cried Nathan, “ I have 
reserved a choice place for you and your partner, whom I 
once had the pleasure to know,” bowing at the same time to 
Chester. 

But the China consul drew himself up with stately pride 
at the salutation, and stalked forward in silent, sullen, offended 
dignity, without a word in reply. Miss Julia found her part- 
ner very stupid ; she was right glad when the music ceased, 
to be rejoiced when free from his company. He left her 
rather abruptly, and immediately sought Mr. Parker for an 
explanation. 

“Do you know,” said he, taking Walter’s arm and walking 
apart with him, “ do you know what has become of the poor 
boy whom you once had in your office called Tunc ?” 

Walter started at the inquiry, for it jarred harshly on his 
mind, as he replied : 

“ What of him, Mr. Chester ?” 

“ He is now present at this ball, the same Nathan P. Trenk, 
the charity boy. Surely, you did not introduce him into 
society ?” 

Walter slowly withdrew hjs arm, and facing Chester, an- 
swered : 

“ Whatever I have done, I am not responsible to you, sir ; 
and I hope you will never dare to address me in a similar 
tone with such language again.” 

“ I meant no offence, Mr. Parker.” 

“ That is enough ; let me then give you a friendly caution. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


423 


J\Ir. Trenk will be happy to welcome yon as one of his former 
friends when he needed them. At present he has obtained 
a distinguished position ; he is an ornament to society, with 
many warm friends. I am one of them.” 

“ But can you countenance his imposition ?” 

“ What imposition, Mr. Chester ?” 

“ Passing himself as patrician and wealthy.” 

“ He has done neither. He is in manners, education, and 
feeling, too much of the gentleman for that.” 

“ Education ! Mr. Parker.” 

“ Yes, sir ; he has received a thorough education, which I 
know myself.” 

“ Where did he receive it ?” 

“ At one of the very best colleges in America.” 

“ At whose expense, if he were poor ?” 

“ His guardians paid for all. He never was destitute as 
you suppose.” 

Mr. Chester made no reply, but reflected for a moment, 
doubting the truth of every assertion there made. He had 
mixed too much with unprincipled men, with the worst por- 
tion of the Europeans in the East, to have a high sense of 
honor or appreciation of it in others. He therefore con- 
cluded, hastily, Walter was deceiving him with a well pre- 
pared, artful falsehood, and left him with that impression, 
determined to expose Trenk, little aware of the risk he 
would run in such an undertaking. 

Walter Parker was deeply perplexed by this conversation. 
He could foresee much annoyance for Nathan, without any 
good to result from the remarks it would call forth. Tlie 
exposure would be painful, therefore he pitied him. But 
such was his confidence in Trenk’s manliness, in his inherent 
feelings as a gentleman, that he never doubted he would con- 


424 


THE METROPOLITES. 


duct liimself properly throughout, to come off triumphant at 
last. 

“ What is the matter with Mr. Parker ; is he composing a 
new oration for the benefit of his lady friends ?” exclaimed 
Emma Gray, as Walter found himself at her side. 

“ Not an oration this time. Miss Emma ; only finding 
appropriate words for some few thoughts.” 

“ On what subject, sir ?” 

“ Must I confess. I was composing some compliments for 
a lady?” 

“ Is she young and beautiful ?” 

“ She is both, IVIiss Emma ; and she is more than that.” 

“ What more can she be ?” 

“ The most beautifully dressed lady present.” 

“ Then why not tell her so ?” 

“ Somehow my compliments are failures ; it would grieve 
me much if she imagined me insincere.” 

“ But have not others told her the same ? She would 
believe you.” 

“ Would you believe me. Miss Emma ?” 

“ I am sure I never doubted you. But tell me, who is the 
lady?” 

“The same little fascinating fairy who captivated Mr. 
Burk and Trenk at the party of Mrs. Slapdash.” 

Emma blushed, recalling their commendations of her 
appearance at the time referred to ; but gratified with such 
delicate praise from Walter, she did not look up or make any 
reply. 

“Have you seen Mr. Trenk this evening?” he asked, 
changing the subject. 

“ Only for a moment in the supper-room, where he gave 
me his exclusive attention. Was it not kind in him ?” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


425 


“ He is always kind to his favorites.” 

“ But am I one of them ?” 

“Yes, Miss Emma; you have no better friend among 
your acquaintances. He and Morton talk much of you, 
always to inquire with great interest.” 

“ It is a great pleasure to have such friends,” she re- 
marked. “ I know not why they think of me at all.” 

“Perhaps others think of you also. Miss Emma, who do 
not express their feelings so freely,” and Walter’s voice 
trembled as he spoke. 

She hung down her head for an instant, afraid to meet his 
eyes to ask him for an explanation of this remark. The tone 
was indicative of more than his words. She turned her 
beautiful eyes full upon him in their soft splendor, half doubt- 
ing her own impressions, but only too happy to have them 
confirmed. At that moment, however, another figure was 
called, the music once more commenced, and an engaged 
partner hastened to claim her hand. With a sweet smile to 
Walter, she hastened away. 

Mr. Parker felt rather elated at his meaning being so fully 
comprehended without further explanation. It is true he had 
neither intended to make a declaration at the time, nor wished 
the pretty fair one to believe him a lover as yet. But in 
his annoyance at the previous conversation with Chester, he 
forgot for once to be on his guard with the beautiful orphan, 
whom he never had by word or action deceived. He thought 
her complexion shone with unusual brilliancy at his avowal, 
while he felt conscious he was now irretrievably in love. But 
he had no cause to be displeased with her manner of receiv 
ing the vague avowal of his affections. 

Thus restored to his usual flow of light spirits, he began 
to take a more hopeful view of the probable effects of Ches- 


426 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ter’s disclosures respecting Trenk. Walter hoped it would 
lead to a clearing up of some of the mystery surrounding N’a- 
than’s family connexions, where the enigmatical Mr. Parker 
found himself completely at fault through all the circum- 
stances heretofore mentioned. lie was sorely annoyed at find- 
ing himself perplexed when he would much prefer perplex- 
ing others. But as neither he nor others could understand 
Nathan, he wished his birth and parentage explained, even 
if it should cause him some slight annoyance. Walter had no 
doubt the peojile at the Druidoaks knew Nathan’s history. 
Perhaps he was the natural son of some foreign nobleman, 
of some distinguished lady abroad, the right heir to an estate 
and title the possessor wrongfully withheld. Walter made a 
thousand conjectures on the subject, but dismissed at once 
with contempt the supposition of Trenk’s ever being a 
pauper-boy at Randall’s Island. 

Again the mischief-loving little gentleman imagined innu- 
merable difficulties the disagreeable Chester would meet 
with in making himself conspicuous as the source of informa- 
tion in this affair. A sardonic smile was visible on his face 
as two ladies approached where he was standing. The 
laughter-loving widow, Mrs. Malcomb, was the first to 
speak. 

“ Mr. Parker, as a solitary recluse in a corner, does not 
seem to be in a melancholy mood.” 

“ Having found this harbor of refuge, dear ladies, I experi- 
ence great happiness in the sense of security.” 

“ What is the awful danger impending over so invaluable 
a member of society ?” asked his particular friend, the young 
and witty Mrs. Walters. 

“ Behold, madam, the express-car waltz now at full speed, 
sixty miles to the hour by the orchestra time-table. The 


THE METROPOLITES. 


427 


panting beauties are kicking up such a dust with their pair of 
animated drivers, that if I don’t clear the track no one can 
tell where I may be tossed. Smothered in hoops. Think of 
that for a coroner’s verdict on mv untimely fate.” 

“ Right, sir. Self-preservation I perceive is tne fir^t law in 
your code,” said Mrs. Walters, smiling. 

“ Kot extinguished by a war-whoop,” continued Walter, 
“ nor with a hooping-cough ; but quietus made by the hoops 
of a more destructive character.” 

Mrs. Malcomb hastened to ask if he had heard the awful 
story about Trenk at Randall’s Island. 

“ I am afraid it is only too true,” answered Walter, with 
much gravity. “ Harry Chester swears he and Trenk used 
the same soap, towel, and tooth-brush at that place, and Ches- 
ter ought to know.” 

“ Absurd ! Mr. Chester was in China.” 

“ True, in broken-china in tlie kitchen, among the delf-ware ; 
a delfic oracle, no doubt, that foretells what you may expect 
for dinner. Chester was down below among the culinary 
antipodes to put a gridiron round the world.” 

The ladies moved on to leave Mr. Parker to his medita- 
tions alone. When the company was dispersing, when 
Nathan was quitting the side of Claudia, Walter approach- 
ed to speak to him in a stage whisper, with hand to the 
side of his mouth. “ Methinks the chevalier is sad. Where- 
fore that brow of night in the presence of Aurora. Have 
you pei-mitted the idle words of gossip to visit her ears too 
roughly ? Was that a smile sinister I saw before me when you 
were near her hand ?” 

“Have you, Mr. Parker, heard the trash afloat about 
me ?” 

“ Never mind that nonsense, Nathan ; the purse will pub 


428 


THE METROPOLITES. 


you through with Claudia: only stable-boys now talk of pedi- 
gree.” 

“Yet I dislike any public discussion of my early history.” 

“ So do likewise many more men of wealth, of Eau-reser- 
voir avenue, who are more familiar with Murray Hill than 
Murray’s grammar. They, too, dislike allusions to ancestry. 
Per-ann has taken the place of it.” 

“ My position in society will not be affected. But the talk, 
the talk about the matter will be unpleasant.” 

“ If Claudia is all right, never mind the palaver. But wiU 
she come up to time when the final round is called for brides- 
maids — the bouquet holders at Grace church 

Nathan gave him a look of derisive scorn, with a who- 
would-refuse-me curl of the lip. 

“Well, well, Nathan, to be sure Mufti does this. Mufti can 
do that, and you are the grand Mufti. But have a care, as 
Morton would say, her congeal-iality looks omnibus. People 
sometimes asking for a warm rib get only the cold shoulder.” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Almost any day, about the hour of noon, Mr. Pactolus 
might be found in a private side-room of the club. It was 
the hour consecrated to the important and no less arduous 
duties devolving upon him from his exalted position in society. 
Mr. Pactolus is at the time now referred to deeply absorbed 
in perusing the advertising pages of the morning journals, 
wherein he finds ample scope for the vigorous exercise of 
his useful mind. His favorite columns are those devoted to 


THE METROPOLITES. 429 

the progress of personal, matrimonial, and astrological infor- 
mation in the nineteenth century. 

His own contributions to that popular species of light lite- 
rature appear under the appropriate heads. “ If the elegant 
young lady with ‘ beautiful eyes,’ who rode down town ima 
Fourth Avenue stage last week, will only send her address 
to Mr. Kid Glove, she will soothe the lacerated heart of one 
whom she has crushed with a compound fracture.” “ A yoimg 
gentleman of ample fortune, with impaired health, and eyes 
weakened by too close an application to his theological stu- 
dies, desires to form the acquaintance of a winning young 
lady with a view to matrimony, and a visit to Palestine or 
the Pyramids.” “ A venerable old man who has lived for 
three score years in a hermit’s cave upon roots and herbs, 
and ujjon the limpid water of a holy spring, having received 
the gift of mystical lore, can impart knowledge of the future 
to young females who may wish from laudable motives to be 
instructed in coming events. Address in Canal street, free 
of charge.” 

“ There, now,” said he, throwing down the paper and turn- 
ing to William Anthon, who was reading a book — a quiet 
young gentleman, the only occupant of the apartment with 
him ; “ there, now my work appears beautiful in print this 
morning. Here is my first advertisement ‘ to meet the eye ’ 
of a half hundred who will take it to their sweet selves in 
that Fourth Avenue line, which is a female line of descent 
down town in the middle of the day. The second performance 
is like unto it, but more divine, with a theological squab 
in full feather for feminine tea-parties. Fancy me, William, 
in the character, and — faint. But the third is the masterpiece, 
in which my appearance as principal of the most popular 
free academy of the age must command admiration ; un 


430 


THE METK'OPOLITES. 


cloiibtedly a virtuous enterprise, for it will be its own 
reward.” 

This branch of the morning’s labors being disposed of, 
Pactolus seized a pack of cards, which he handled with much 
dexterity on the table before him. Soon was he absorbed in 
the mysteries of the “ Mississippi steamboat shuffle,” a trick 
upon whose mastery he had set his heart. When wearied of 
this occupation, he once more addressed his companion to 
engage in a desultory conversation. At last allusion was 
made to Nathan and the scene at the fancy ball, that induced 
Pactolus to indulge in a monologue on the topic, wfflile An- 
thon resumed his book in silence. 

“ Trenk is a gentleman, must be admitted. He has always 
plenty of cash ; the precious spondulicks, better than charity, 
not only covering a multitude of sins but burnishing them 
into crowning glories. Does not your fat friend, the hoary- 
bearded Burk — Burk on the sublime and ridiculous — say that 
Trenk pays like an Emperor, whereby his suit is granted by 
the tailor ere credit is asked ? Burk, you know, borrows 
from no man living — only from Shakespeare — whom he de 
dares he will settle with on the Rialto. But if Trenk wants 
blood, we mu&t cut him, William. What is to become of 
us if we mingle our blue veins with one who has no more of 
the ethereal ichor than a dried mackerel ? This would bring 
us to a pretty pickle, a sort of aristocodocracy not mentioned 
by Plato or Brigham Young in their approved forms of gov- 
ernment. 

“ Will you, will you, William, take warning ? Look at 
the obloquy Trenk will bring upon our order ; for we stand 
upon our order, and he must go at once. Think of this and 
Aveep. Weep in an overflow of the buttermilk of human 
kindness distilled into crocodilian dew-drops di-i})ping from 


THE METROPOLITES. 


431 


the lachrymal reservoirs of your ocular brewery. But wipe 
him out of your memory with a herculean effort and a sweet- 
scented cambric properly applied to the inner angle of your 
dexter visual orb.” 

Mr. Pactolus slowly shuffled the cards as he permitted the 
stream of his remarks to flow majestically onward in the 
golden sands of his eloquence. 

“ Will you, will you, William Anthon, take waiaiing. Soon 
will tribulation come upon you ; for mourning is heard at the 
Foundling. Her ‘ Babes’ are in deep grief, wading above 
their knees in affliction. The horn of gladness is no longer 
exalted with the oil of juniper, vulgarly called gin. Her 
glory has departed. The Foundling looks seedy — with the 
aspect of superannuated summer horticulture after a frost; 
the gates thereof languish. She covereth herself with sack- 
cloth, with doeskin casimeres, with the clouds of darkness, 
with the dust of Harlem Lane. How are the mighty fallen ; 
her pillars laid low. Oh, that her head were a fountain of 
tears to weep night and day for this stain upon her children. 
Oh, that she had a lodge in the wilderness, free from mankind, 
including the gorilla family ; the wings of the wild pigeon to 
fly to the forest at Jones’s Woods, and be at rest on a merry- 
go-round ; a desert for a dw'el ling-place in some first-class 
hotel, where, athirst, she might drink the bitter waters of 
acetic acidulated Jersey cider, with headache and bottle of 
Saratoga hair invigorator before breakfast. 

“ Will you, will you, William, weep for this mother to the 
‘Babes ?’ A calamity has fallen upon her worse than the 
pestilence walking at noonday; worse than the blasting 
simoom w^inged with the arrows of death through the 
watches of the night ; worse than hand-organ with monkey, 
Marseillaise, tambourine, extra excruciation, disturbing love’s 


432 


THE METROPOLITES. 


young dream in the junior juveniles of this respectable insti 
tution. Her brows are racked with pain, her lips parched 
with heat, her cheeks \\uthered as shrivelled branches in 
autumn, spoiling her features genernlly in an ornamental 
anatomical point of view. Food upon silver dishes has lost 
its savor, sparkling wine its delight, terrapin is out of sea- 
son, and asparagus, a Marshal Grouchy vegetable, has not 
come up. Cryfjtal tubes refuse their suck, fragrant weeds their 
narcotic balm. Many will perish before finding Ponce de 
Leon’s fabulous fountain of perpetual youth in the Cristadoro 
hair-dy(\ The summer rose buds not .in beauty ; its leaves 
are scattered on the ground to fade like her hopes, with no 
Jolly restorative known to scientific steam renovators. 
Misery stalks through silent halls disconsolate ; the old girl 
wringing her wrinkled hands with frightful waste of an 
imaginary pound of soap. The hai*p of revelry is hushed, 
tlie gridiron hung up, the golden bowl of mirth is broken ; 
the saucepan is mute ; cold winds sweep through lofty corri- 
dors to sigh a parting requiem over sullied honor, fallen 
grandeur, and dilapidated fancy shirt-collars. 

“Will you, will you, William, weep for this decline in 
starch ? A rumor has gone forth to overcome her as a sum- 
mer comi)liment in a special train. It is whispered in hymn- 
books, it is muttered in Hoyle, and a jewsharp caught faintly 
the sound as it fell. It is heard on Porcelain Terrace, known 
in Malachite Place, learned in Jasper Square, repeated in 
Topaz Row, understood in Cream-laid Avenue, and breathed 
softly at the shrine of St. Lapislazuli — ‘ pauper-boy — poor fel- 
loAV — ^Randall’s Island — what a pity — ^no father, no mother — 
the vulgar wretch — is still poor — the villain — works for his 
money — the swindling impostor.’ . 

“ Oh, will you, will you, William Anthon, take warning ? 


THE METROPOLITES. 


433 


It was told in confidence to Sister Agatha in the chapel of the 
Agnus, at matins ; communicated under a brown veil, and a 
\'eil of secresy, in this vale of tears to Sister Agnes at vcs- 
l>ers ; and the news comes to that saint on earth. Mother 
Ursula, their lady abbess in prospective, as she enters for the 
morning lessons on the day of high festival, with her dog- 
train of poodle pets, nursed in a lap-land, rather a cold cor- 
ner lot peradventure for connubial comfort. These angels, 
you must know, are in strict communion with each other, in 
the hope of reviving a society suitable for their dark ages, 
which set in severely with black silks, sombre velvets, and 
dismal shawls, after foi ty years’ run in single harness, in a 
one horse concern, with some occasional fast driving clande. 
cently, which, O no, we’ll never mention now, its name is 
never heai d -at the four o’clock of their afternoon of life, 
when they are walking up to settle at the captain’s office of 
Mrs. Grundy’s establishment. 

“ With them this star of the morning was a favorite,William 
Anthon ; a Charles the First, Blenheim, Black and Tan, or 
other puppy, being so delightfully wicked, wealthy, fashiona- 
ble, high-bom, with fascinating manners, splendid accom- 
plishments, and all the modem improvements. But now it 
is changed, and they cast him into outer darkness, the gas- 
meter cut oflT, with their beaming eyes turned to heaven like 
saints expiring, or ducks in thunder, thankful, joyous, for a 
happy release from the depravity in this bad, bad, bad world. 
The ‘ illusion ’ they had been under, ‘ the golden chain^’ was 
broken, broken as the last link tliat bound the iron ladle to 
the street water-plug, and they threw him ofi* with no certi- 
ficate for out-door relief 

“ Will you, will you, William, leave your card, compli- 
ments, and condolence where streets clothe their granite 

19 


434 


THE METROPOLITES. 


sorrow in straw or saw-dust, where heart-broken bell handles 
mudle their silver-plated palpitations in appropriate crape ? 
But what can the Foundlings do, William Anthon ? What 
balm of Minerva is in store for the ‘ Babes T What Paphian 
Lotion, with a never-Phalon supply ? He was unto them guide, 
counsellor, and friend, an apple-tree among the trees of the 
Avoods, a whole orchard, in fact put down in clover ; a grace- 
ful roe upon Schooley’s Mountain ; a fig-tree, shooting forth 
her green figs at Flushing ; a vine with the tender grapes, 
giving a good smell at Croton Point ; a bundle of myrrh 
brought to the bridal chamber of Lovejoy’s Hotel, at the 
corner of Beekman street, and the pine board Park barracks, 
frescoed in whitewash ; spikenard, sending forth its gladness 
at the Fulton market ; a cluster of camphire in the lumber 
yards of Hoboken. In his presence the winter was past, the 
rain gone and over, tlm flowers appeared on the earth, the 
time of warbling had come, the voice of the turtle was heard 
in the land, and a voice at Downing’s calling for more turtle. 
Dove’s eyes within his locks, lips dropping honey and cream 
upon the tip of his tongue. His garments had the aroma of 
musk and cinnamon, the oil of roses, of West End, of new 
moAvn hay, of jockey club, of hyacinth, like the smell of Lu- 
bin. The banquet was made for him, and for laughter. He 
and wine brought mirth ; his song, with the viol, the harp, 
and the lute pumped up tears and tenderness, with rejoicing, 
through the vigils of the night, until the day-breaking, the 
shadows flew away Avhen they won’t go home to morning, 
till daylight doth appear. 

“ Will you, will you, William, take warning or something to 
drink ? But now all this has vanished, hath affliction hath come 
upon them. Why are they thus punished; in Avhat trans- 
gressed ? Had they not kept all the commandments contain- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


435 


ed in the books of the kingdom of fashion ; had they not ob- 
served all the edicts of the exclusive empire ; had they not 
observed the statutes enacted for the inner circle of the terra 
cotta portion of humanity ? Wherein had they suffered con- 
tamination by contact with the base manners, customs, laws, 
religion, or morality established for the lower orders of man- 
kind ? Was it for this they despised a father’s counsels until 
their old commissary of subsistence, the skin-flint Judean, 
threatened to cut them off with a shekel : or scoffed the ten- 
der entreaties of a mother praying nightly with a broken 
heart, in curl-papers and camel’s hair pink satin robe; or 
sneered at a sister, till she pronounced them odious, a goose ; 
or snubbed a younger brother, who inscribed his feeling in 
rage and red-chalk — s-k-n-o-bb-nothin-shorter-he-is. Was it 
for this they had worn out parental patience, and patent latch- 
key ; that they had given string-halt, spavdn, and staggers to 
the saddle and coach-horses in the stable; kissed the maid in 
the laundry, courted the seamstress up stairs, wrote with bad 
pen and worse spelling Byron’s Fare-thee-well to the go- 
verness, put their sleeve round the French bonne instead of 
the baby, and avowed a resolve to run off with a daughter of 
the comer baker ? Was it for this — ^butit is no matter about 
the pretty widow, yoimg orphan, or innocent country girl. 
Did tailor, hat, shoe, or shirt-maker ever question their style 
or taste. Did marker at faro bank, billiards, or bowling-alley 
ever cease to admire them? Were not their patent-leather 
gaiter-boots beauties, their Jouvin-gloves perfections, their 
linen cambrics inimitable, their perfumes inaccessible, their 
jewels unrivalled ? In a word, were they not excellence itself 
from the tips of their toes to the delicate manipulations of the 
curling tongs ? In their personal associations no intermixing 
with plebeians, no fellowship save with the best pedigree. 


436 


THE METROPOLITES. 


They had shunned with dainty tread promiscuous intercourse, 
picking their steps on tip-toe through society, to select those 
only whose fathers were neither of a city guild nor breathed 
in the retail trade the impure air of oil, 'molasses, soap, and 
shad, or sold hides in the swamp. Two generations only 
could obliterate such stains, with perseverance and Daley’s 
pain-extractor from the family book-muslin. And now Avith 
all this high precaution, they have run their heads against 
the low, vulgar, rough, blue lime-stone Avails of that refuge 
for pauper children, Randall’s Island.” 

“ Stop -a moment in your lamentations, Jeremiah, junior,” 
exclaimed Anthon, laying down his book and seizing the arm 
of Pactolus. “ Stop a moment, thou worthy grandson of 
Jlilkiah the prophet, and listen. What is that loud talking 
in the saloon ?” 

Without waiting for information they rushed from the 
apartment, to find the “ Babes” hastening on all sides to meet 
in a common centre in the spacious refectory, resplendent 
AAntli frescoes, marbles, paintings, curtains, and mirrors. At 
a small table sat Morton Burk, silent in solemn grandeur, 
amid the uproar, seeking solace in libations of brandy, Avith 
clouds of tobacco-smoke of his own creating. He was soon 
overArhelmed Avith questions from every quarter, to which, 
lioAveA^er, he paid not the slightest apparent attention. “ I 
say, JMorton, tell us all about it ?” “ Is it a fight, or only a 

come off?” “ Who are the parties ?” Avith fifty more interro- 
gatories of like nature, as they closed around him. The fet 
young gentleman was, however, in no great haste to gratify 
their impatient curiosity. Not opening his lips, except to 
inhale air for the inflation of his lungs, he puffed away at his 
])ipe till his face was furrowed with bitter wrinkles ; while 
wreaths of smoke in dense volume encircling his head and 


THE METROPOLITES. 487 

white beard, induced his tormentors to widen their distance to 
enlarge the area of his freedom. 

Morton kept his eyes steadily upon them, only removing 
his fixed gaze from one to the other without any further re- 
cognition of their presence. If he knew aught of an im- 
pending duel, it was evident he was not willing to make any 
revelations. But in all probability he was more disposed to 
learn than instruct. As the Babes therefore fell off, bi-eaking 
into small groups, and laying each other under contribution, 
they jointly formed a stock of news which, although vague, 
inaccurate, and contradictory withal, was better than total 
ignorance. 

No one doubted Mr. Chester had opened a hostile corre- 
spondence with Walter Parker, founded in some way upon 
Nathan’s juvenile history. Some said it was for introducing 
Trenk into society; some for Walter’s denial of Chester’s 
assertion about Nathan’s refuge at RandaU’s Island ; some 
for his disbelief in the soap, towel, and tooth-brush recipro- 
city; others had different versions of the difficulty. They 
said Chester, wishing his own nurture at th§ pauper institute 
to be ignored, had taken this absurd mode to hush it up, by 
demanding a retraction of what Walter had communicated 
on the subject ; that Chester’s father had been slandered in 
the talk of his being a former convict ; that it grew out of a 
remark about the family being musical, one member being at 
Sing-Sing while another was .at Singapore; that one was 
packing opium while another, was picking oakum. All, 
however, believed Parker had perpetrated something auda- 
ciously impudent and witty. Enviable effects of a good 
name ! 

Although numerous groups were thus discussing with much 
animation the same question, yet all were irresistibly drawn 


438 


THE METROPOLITES. 


to a small coterie upon hearing the name of Mr. Charles 
]N'e^41 repeated several times in that quarter. As they drew* 
near in dense array one of the speakers remarked : “ My dear 
fellow, you are mistaken — ^he was never in the State Prison. 
But he ought to have gone, which, I suppose, is the reason 
why he did not.” 

“ It is probable the jury were the best judges of that.” 

“He was never tried; hut he ought to have been in- 
dicted.” 

“ What did he do ?” a half-dozen inquired. 

Hereupon the first speaker narrated the leading facts re- 
specting the missing bonds mentioned in a former chapter, 
adding many rhetorical embellishments which, in his fervor, 
his brilliant imagination supplied. Then, dra^ring from his 
pocket a printed slip, cut from what seemed to be an old dis- 
colored newspaper, he read aloud the slashing editorial of the 
Sunday Retrospect on Mr. Chester the elder, the father of 
the China consul. 

The young patricians listened attentively to the recital, not 
moving at all,' save to extinguish a cigar, adjust a hat, or lean 
heavily with both hands on a diminutive, bending cane. The 
silence was profound as the reading proceeded, nor could it 
be said to be broken at the close, when the crowd dispersed 
without a word said, each deeply impressed with the little 
history of poor Emma’s infancy. For they all were either 
of her acquaintance or had seen her in society. And this, 
then, was the first great incident of her existence, which had 
indelibly impressed her subsequent fate and fortune. They 
recalled her brilliant complexion and teeth, her large, rolling 
eye, her clear forehead, her splendid hair, her classic fea- 
tures, her sweet smile yet tinged with pensive sorrow ; the 
little beauty whose toilet had been so recently the admiration 


THE METROPOLITES. 


439 


of tlie ladies, who attracted the gentlemen with her winning 
graces, dressed like a fairy in rose diamonds, or a Peri, fair 
and innocent from the Pearl Islands. 

It may at first seem surprising these gentlemen, young and 
naturally impulsive, should have not vented some audible 
mdignation at the shameful conduct of Chester towards Mr. 
Gray, or exhibited some manifestation of heartfelt sympathy 
for the pretty orphan, Emma. But, in truth, they were too 
well bred for either, although both emotions of anger and of 
pity were strong within them. Moreover, something like a 
sense of shame, of self-reproach, shocked their sensibility m 
being even silent auditors where a public allusion was thus 
made .to a lady whom they all respected. It was this phase 
of the proceeding which jarred upon the nerves of Morton 
Burk, who had listened attentively. Hastily grasping the 
])aper which the youth still had in his hand, he eagerly closed 
his fingers upon it and tore it to pieces. The young patri- 
cian looked up in astonishment as he exclaimed : “ I hope I 
have not offended you, Mr. Burk ?” 

“Ho offence, no offence whatever, sir,” Morton replied 
with dignity and feeling. “ But you forgot, in your generous 
ardor, while punishing the guilty you might, unconscious, 
give pain by calling attention in public to a living and inno- 
cent young lady.” 

“ I own it was improper, but the allusion was slight, and 
had to be made to expose the wretch.” 

“ Many a culprit has been spared,” said Morton, laying his 
ponderous hand kindly upon the gentleman’s shoulder. 
“ Many from a merciful consideration. It is hoped the lady 
will never hear of this ; but now let it end for ever. Society 
is so interwoven, that striving to entangle one of its threads 
must affect others. Mr. Chester will have cause to bear this 


440 


THE METROPOLITES. 


in mind hereafter. And may he work out his own salvation 
if he can.” 

While impending duels are generally shrouded in silent 
mystery, it was far otherwise with those affiiirs of chivalry 
which sprang up within the immediate circle of the Found- 
lings. There the particulars were impartially published as 
far as known, and the facts disclosed without any re- 
serve. 

Whoever has been initiated into the secrets of a female 
boarding-school, or of a college for youths of the other sex 
within inflammatory distance, must often have noticed the flut- 
ter occasioned by the surreptitious introduction of a love-let- 
ter, a contraband missive condemned under the severest penal- 
ties, and for which the presiding police are ever on detective 
ser\ice. Yet the outlawed epistle is no less welcome, when 
forthwith the hero or heroine, as the case may happen, sum- 
mons in solemn conclave all within a pretty wide circle of 
confldants, to hear the contents read, and the appropriate 
comments made upon the momentous occasion, without any 
fear before their eyes of a descent upon them from the ovef- 
ruling powers. Cadets at West Point hold similar pyrotech- 
nic courts of anxious inquiry, with the sergeant of the guard 
sometimes officiating as a candlestick. / 

Thus the “Babes,” among themselves, without any dread of 
paternal, maternal,, or metropolitan police spoiling the sport, 
in a pistol and coffee correspondence, impart their informa- 
tion freely, and express their opinions decidedly within the 
mystic limits. For it is only garrulous old age that talks too 
much abroad, regardless of confidence or consequences. In 
youth too much feeling and imagination abound for conver- 
sational purposes to require any resort to facts, important 
facts, to become interesting ; while “ the oldest inhabitant,” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


441 


having lost both his freshness and fancy, will tell you any 
important secret only to gain a patient hearing. 

The information of the Foundlings would have been 
more accurate had they not suffered their heated brains to 
supply them with news. For, as yet, the affair was very sim- 
ple, nothing of importance transpiring, and might end in a 
brief explanation. The second of Chester was Mr. Anthon, 
a fine young fellow, who waited on Walter with a polite 
note desiring to know, in substance, if he had in any manner 
given countenance to the story that Mr. Chester was ever an 
inmate on Randall’s Island ; intimating that a written 
answer was expected, which could be delivered to the 
bearer. Instead of answering the note, however, Walter 
desired to consult a friend, to whom he would refer Mr. 
Anthon, who, in due time, was apprised that Harry Dace 
was to appear in that amiable character in the approaching 
drama. 

Tlius far the campaign had opened w^hen the first bulle- 
tin was published, which was unsatisfactory, as first bulle- 
tins are known to be. Anthon and Dace had not yet met 
about the matter, and it is their interview which must now 
be described. Both were of the Foundlings ; and one after- 
noon, several days subsequent to the reading of the Sunday 
Retrospect, these two heralds from the opposing camps 
met in the club. Neither had thought fit to provide 
himself with a stenographer and corps of reporters from a 
morning newspaper office-^the first great oversight. Nor 
had they prepared paragraphs for the forthcoming corre* 
spondence — the second lamentable error. Both were think- 
ing of their principals instead of themselves — the third 
deplorable indiscretion. The seconds were not anxious for 
its ending in an exchange of shots — the fourth mistake, 


442 


THE METROPOLITES. 


with such a rare opportunity to appear conspicuously in 
print. 

They encountered each other in the billiard-room, when 
accidentally the tables were unoccupied and no one present. 
When Dace entered, Anthon was chalking a cue preparatory 
to some solo practice on the spot-ball. With a familiar nod 
to Walter’s friend, he proceeded to pocket the red. Then 
leisurely replacing it on the table, he carelessly asked Dace 
what was the news. After some further unimportant remarks, 
Anthon called his attention to the a^ftair with which they 
were intrusted, hoping soon for an answer to Chester’s note. 
“ I suppose,” he added, “ it will all blow over with some kind 
of apology, and thus end the matter.” Dace, however, sur- 
prised him with the information that Walter did not intend 
offering an apology. “ That is unlucky,” Anthon quietly re- 
marked, as he again pocketed the red, and turning, cried : 
“ Rather a good shot, Harry ?” 

“ Who’s a good shot ; not Chester, I hope ?” 

“Hot at all. I was thinking of my spot-ball in the pocket. 
But what is to be done about this confounded quarrel ?” lay- 
ing doAvn his cue to light a cigar, and offering another to 
his companion. “ Let us arrange it in some way.” 

“ I apprehend some trouble will be in that,” Dace 
replied. 

“ ^Vhat ! You don’t want a fight to come off?” exclaimed 
Anthon, in some surprise. “ You are not on imfriendly terms 
with my man ?” ' 

“ If I were,” Mr. Dace said ; “ if I were, I would deem my- 
self incapable of acting in this business. I trust our sense of 
honor would not permit participation in an affair of this deli- 
cacy vdth inimical feelings to an adversary.” 

“ You are right, old fellow ; quite right,” said Anthon ; “ I 


THE METROPOLITES. 


443 


beg your pardon for my unguarded remark ; no gentleman 
would touch a case under such circumstances.” 

“ K he did it would he only to bring on a fight, not an 
explanation ; to stamp him as rather a low fellow. But, touch- 
ing our present difficulty, I am much afraid it portends war.” 

“ K it is becoming serious, then let us talk seriously,” said 
Anthon. “ Where is your protocol, for I trust myself only 
with written despatches ?” 

Hereupon Mr. Dace handed a note in reply to Chester’s 
demand for a retraction of the slander on his character. As 
it was addressed to Mr. Aiithon, that young gentleman lei- 
surely read it, taking the cigar from his lips to give it a' 
second perusal, written in something like the following words : 

“ In answer to Mr. Chester’s note in regard to the story of 
his being formerly an inmate of Randall’s Island, Mr. Parker 
would reply that a preliminary matter has first to be settled. 
He is informed by several gentlemen that Mr. Chester gives 
him as authority for a similar slander upon Mr. Trenk. 
Whenever Mr. Chester thinks proper to do Mr. Parker jus- 
tice by correcting that error, he will attend to his present 
demand. Until then he must decline to give any explanation.” 

Anthon folded up the note, remarking at the same time : 
“ This looks very much like gunpowder, with mountain how- 
itzers on horseback.” 

“ I am apprehensive it is so ; but not the howitzers, I hope.” 

“ Well, Mr. Dace, we shall see. Mr. Parker refuses to give 
any explanation ?” 

An affirmative nod was the only reply returned to this 
question, as the two gentlemen parted. 

On a former occasion it was well known when Mr. Dace 
was challenged, Anthon acted as his friend. Hence they had 
been on the best terms ever since, especially as they mutually 


444 


THE METROPOLITES. 


admired each other’s conduct at that trying period. The 
second insisting on the hostile meeting taking place in a 
room with shots to he exchanged across a table, the opposite 
party protested against the distance as barbarous, as contrary 
to the code ; whereupon, through the intervention of friends, 
amicable relations were established. 

Mr. Anthon now sought his principal with the answer 
received from Walter. A duel seemed inevitable ; but it did 
not come off so soon as might be fairly expected. Several 
interviews, attended with long, earnest conversations, took 
place between Chester and his friend, until finally Mr. Anthon 
left him in disgust, declaring he would have nothing more to 
do with the affair, and dropping the China consul’s acquaint- 
ance. It was supposed Mr. Chester insisted on further nego- 
tiations being opened with Walter, which might lead to 
mutual explanations or retractions, but Mr. Anthon declined 
to be accessory to such unwarrantable proceedings. 

The “ Babes ” soon after, from some source, received the 
second authentic and now satisfactory bulletin. Mr. Chester 
had demanded of Mr. Parker to withdraw the assertion that 
he ever was a pauper-boy at Randall’s Island, which Walter 
had refused. This brief announcement revealed the whole 
story, the truth, the wdiole truth. As IVIr. Anthon thought 
proper to drop Chester from his list of speaking iicquaint- 
ances, as Mr. Dace had followed Anthon’s example, and as 
the Foundlings followed eveiy new fashion, either' in the cut 
of garment or gentleman, they ignored the consul’s presence 
henceforth and for evermore. No doubt was in their minds 
where he received his early nurture and education. 

In the meantime, while this excitement was blowing in 
almost a tempest at the club, Nathan, the unconscious cause 
of it all, was liappily ignorant of the storm. He was with- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


445 


out the track of the wind-currents which would hear the in- 
formation to him. Immediately after quitting the fancy hall 
he repaired to his rooms, where two letters lay upon his ta- 
ble unopened, to his address. One was from an eminent 
lawyer, calling his particular attention to an important 
cause ’set down for argument within six weeks, at Washing- 
ton, in the Supi’eme Court. This announcement was a stun- 
ning blow, as he had something like a verbal assurance from 
the other side, of the case being postponed to the next term. 
Being, moreover, a pet one to Nathan, he had resolved to 
prepare himself in it for an unusual display before this high 
tribunal. Here, he thought, was a golden opportunity lost 
for distinction m his profession, which might not soon again 
occur. But regrets were idle ; therefore he resolved to set 
vigorously to work. 

The other letter was of a different nature, from a musical 
impressario, imploring in most piteous expressions, Nathan’s 
assistance in bringing out some lyric attraction and ballet for 
the ensuing Christmas holidays now fast approaching ; be- 
seeching also his kind offices with the reporters for the press, 
to insure their favorable notice to the public in advance. 
Feeling much sympathy for the worthy artist in distress, and 
not unmindful also of several deserving favorites dependent 
on the impi^ssario for their comfort, Nathan laid down the 
note with a sigh of despair at the work prospective, 
while he mentally promised himself to lend a hearty, helping 
• hand. 

These two pressing engagements, of such opposite inter- 
est, confined Nathan within certain limits, so that he had 
neither time nor inclination to stray into society, or even 
drop down upon the club for a passing hour. He had met 
none of his fashionable friends for several weeks, nor indeed 


446 


THE METROPOLITES. 


any of his up-town associates from whom to learn the cur 
rent news or city gossip. Walter and Morton, supposing the 
rumors about Randall’s Island had influenced him to shrink 
from publicity, only waited for a fitting occasion to aflford 
him some comfort, hoping every day to meet him down 
town. Lideed they were planning a visit to his rooms, Avhen 
Nathan quite unexpectedly one evening walked into the 
club. 

His advent was so sudden as to produce a sensation among 
those who had not decided on the reception they should ac- 
cord to him, which the change of circumstances imposed or 
seemed to impose upon them. But if their manners were 
stiff and formal at first, Nathan did not indicate any percep- 
tion of it. With his usual bland, courteous, winning address, 
he accosted all as formerly, and soon the frost upon their 
welcome melted away under the genial warmth of his 
charming, sprightly conversation. Among the musical no- 
velties then in rehearsal wer6 several tender, sparking gems, 
Avhich, ill his present pleasant mood, he was fain to sing for the 
“ Babes ” around him for their fascination. Seating himself 
therefore at a piano, he afforded them one of those exquisite 
entertainments too novel and delightful ever to be forgotten. 
Joining next in the general conversation, he modestly patro- 
nized some of the rich patricians with a word, 4ook, or nod, 
while he complimented others in various modes most accepta- 
ble to them, till all believed he had never been half so inter- 
esting or agreeable. It was late when he departed ; but the 
reputation left behind was rich in general admiration and 
good wishes. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


447 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

The reception of Nathan at the club had thus been cordial 
Yet the slight coolness exhibited on his entrance made liim 
somewhat suspicious, to put him on his guard. He perceived 
a change had come over his friends, which now induced him 
to scan every familiar countenance with that penetrating 
glance retained from his humble if not indigent boyhood. 
Tlie lambs at the church of the Agnus Dei were not so joyous 
when he nestled among them on the following Sunday, nor 
did that zone of millinery and diamonds, the dress circle at 
the opera, emit - its ^wonted smiling beams on his approach. 
Clouds also appeared on the horizon of his fashionable world. 
Some ladies who heretofore were most caressing, had now 
risen to the serenely condescending. Gentlemen, too, who in 
former times were very willing to hail Nathan as an intimate 
friend, had suddenly become patronizing and disagreeable. 
This change in the social atmosphere portended storms. The 
excessive warmth surrounding his happy existence, attracted, 
as a natural consequence, a counter-current, which he per- 
ceived would soon send down upon him a tempest. 

The fickleness of human nature is proverbial, the upper 
segment of humanity being the most changeable of all. At 
this time several causes were at work to affect the content- 
ment and complacency of the Avenue. Impostors came as 
grievous afflictions. A fascinating young moustache had 
honored the springs with his presence at the summer solstice. 
He had “ swung corners” in quadrilles with much modesty 
tintil promoted to a vis-d-vis^ finally to find favor and his 
sleeve around some aristocratic sensitive tendrils in the seduc- 
tive waltz. On the strength of such iiinocent pla^Tulness, he 


448 


THE METROPOLITES. 


renewed the intimacy when returning to town, strewing thick 
his autumnal cards in the Yallomhrosa streams of fashion. 
Soon his light barque, freighted with impudence alone, when 
fairly launched floated along in the ever-sweUing flood into a 
large exclusive acquaintence. 

Some nnfoytunate researches, however, in the heralds’ 
oflice' of the metropolitan directory revealed his domains lying 
on the confines of the Third Avenue, where within a vaulted 
saloon, resplendent with frescoes, and arabesques, oriental 
fountains and Carian marbles, Saracenic baths and perflimes, 
this modern Saladin displayed his proud banner on the outer 
walls, with shield bearing a bar sinister, argent, pale, with 
ribbons pendent, serpentine, azure, and ensanguined with a 
bleeding razor. 

Other false knights came with forged missives from foreign 
lands. A white-bearded Baron from the frozen Baltic, and a 
bilious Prince from the base of buming Vesuvius, were both 
found wanting in ancestral and auriferous dust. A dashing 
foreign officer, a gallant troubadour, gaily touched his guitar 
as he was hastening home from the war, to lay his light fin- 
gers on other people’s property, as he ever sang “ Still so gen- 
tly o’er me stealing.” Ti’ials of like nature came frequent 
upon these delicate souls, with never-ending tribulations and 
troubles. To be sure, misfortunes always come wedlocked, 
if any comfort be in that reflection ; yet if one would make a 
visit for all, a spare bed-room of hearth-rug amplitude might 
be accorded Avith Christian resignation. But coming in troops, 
they spoil cooking and complexion, even religious consola- 
tion, destructive alike to dignity and dinners, bringing in their 
train fits of indigestion and disgust. 

An angry brow was nursed by many whose hallowed 
realms had thus been desecrated. They were willing to make 


THE METROPOLITES. 


449 


an example of the. first hapless youth found poaching on theii 
preserves, to send him hound and bleeding to the Ukraine, for 
they were truly in a Tartar mood. Poor Nathan was the 
first one caught, and forthwith sent a culprit on a mission to 
the Cossacks. His offence was flagrant — a nameless pauper 
orphan-boy, without a rag of redeeming vice to cover his vir- 
tuous impudence, who never even dreamed he dwelt in mar- 
ble halls with slaves and vassals by his side ! 

This nomination for foreign service was confirmed by the 
mutual protective senate, who took it into consideration. 
Indeed public opinion demanded some suitable outfit for him 
under the circumstances. “A young man without fortime 
or family, in fact without a name, ought,” it was said over 
and over again in secret session, “ to keep out of company. 
True, he does not gamble, as they said of him, which to be 
sure might supply him with funds for dissipation and extrava- 
gance. But now when it is known he has no money, except 
the sorry pittance earned io writing law-papers, it will never 
do to encourage him in expenses far beyond his limited means. 
His manners, his dress, are excellent his talents, acquire- 
ments, accomplishments, indeed, his personal appearance, re- 
markable. He may turn these to account teaching music, 
dancing, superintending Sunday-schools, a leader of Philhar- 
monics, directing church-melody, private concerts, managing 
artists at parties, an Ethiopian minstrel, or at the Volks 
Garten — a thousand things. But to think of his visiting 
you as an equal, an acquaintance, that is another affair. 
He would, poor fellow, soon find himself out of his element, 
out of his proper sphere and dejith. No doubt he has merit, 
very great merit, which ought to be encouraged ; not, how- 
ever, by receiving his visits when gentlemen are calling, when 
he would soon perceive his presence was not desirable. There 


450 


THE METROPOLITES. 


is, ill short, too much of this fraternizing already with the 
lower orders. Who knows where he lives ; perhaps his mo- 
ther takes in washing, or begs broken victuals. One cannot 
be too particular now-a-days ; and remember, Thomas, 
Thomas remember, when Mr. Trenk calls, say we are 
engaged. It is improper for the footman always to be fib- 
bing ‘ not at home,’ ‘ gone out,’ and other Opie-ates to the 
exigencies of the moment, Paley-atives to the conscience, as 
the wicked, witty Mr. Pactolus calls them. 

“ What pleasure this unknown can take in our set is a 
mystery past finding out. Nothing is in common between 
him and us. They say he is moral, exemplary in his habits, 
honorable, very industrious, with such a good heart! Right 
glad indeed to hear it. Valuable points for a life-member- 
ship in the Bible Society or Young Men’s Christian Associa- 
tion. Mr. Sabina would do something to aid in that way, 
and surely he is pious and philanthropic enough in all rea- 
son ; the very salt of society, its inexhaustible fountain of 
moral flavor, keeping us m perpetual supply of sanctimonious 
purity. But who ever heard of such recommendations for 
an entree into our exclusive circle ? The mode for this month 
is not yet clear-starched cambric cravat, with clear 'con- 
science, velvet coat-collar, veiy silly talk, and vermicelli hair. 
No, no ! no more of this, if you please. If new people must 
be inflicted upon us, let them net come from the inferior 
classes in the city. If we must barter away ourselves, let it 
be, as the rural advertisements have it, ‘ in exchange for cash 
and country produce.’ What you say of his efforts to rise to 
distinction, his professional ambition, and popularity at the 
bar, may all be true ; but it i« idle to run counter to the 
opinion of friends, to set up as a reformer, to be called odd. 
Submission to’ custom and common sense is unavoidable. It 


THE METROPOLITES. 451 

is not proper to countenance this young man ; it may be a 
hardship to him, but cannot be helped.” 

While public sentiment was thus congealing around Na- 
than, to isolate him in its transparent crystals, he expressed 
no opinion on the sentence of condemnation ; at least he made 
no Tesistance to his fate, no murmur passed his lips, no com- 
plaint reached his friends. It was doubtful if the doom 
were revealed to him, so apathetic or unconscious did he 
appear. Walter Parker would have given an ear to know 
what Trenk had learned of his sudden eclipse, or what he 
thought of the base heresy among his former worshippers. 
But Nathan had nothing to say ; he made no sign ; and 
Walter, mystified, felt provoked. Would nothing start his 
Dutch phlegm into mobility ? Mr. Parker was perjfiexed — a 
frame of mind worse to him than the torments of Hades. It 
is retributive justice sometimes to punish a malefactor with 
his own favorite instrument of torture. 

In the meanwhile Nathan worked away diligently at his 
law for the court, with his lyrics and ballet for the impi*es- 
sario. He had no time as yet for friends, dissipation, and 
visiting. He reserved all that for New Year’s day, now 
near at hand. Then he intended to take the fiekl in full 
force. There was a fine fall of snow ; the sleighing was 
excellent, and his Arctic equipage superb, with a gallant 
span of bay horses. 

When the eventful morning arrived, the morning of the' 
ever -memorable carnival in metropolitan annals, Nath^i was 
once more free from business to drive with loose rein through 
all the exciting pleasures of the universal holiday. Adorning 
his handsome figure in a full suit of evening toilet, he pre- 
pared for the day his extensive lady-visiting list with unu- 
sual care, excluding none entitled to any notice. Contem- 


452 


THE METROPOLITES. 


plating his manly features in the full-length mirror with 
much complacency, a slight smile of satisfaction played 
about the corner of his mouth. Perhaps his lips were com- 
pressed with unusual firmness. His eye indicated some emo- 
tion within more marked than admiration for his external 
appearance. He was looking for the glass to reflect his 
thoughts, to exchange salutations with inward pride, cour- 
age, and contempt. 

Before the hour of noon, throwing himself into his luxu- 
rious, dazzling equipage, with visiting-list in his white kid- 
gloved hand, he gave his orders to the driver in the voice of 
a Czar. Soon were his fiery steeds flying over the crisp snow 
with reindeer speed on a frozen sea. But at frequent inter- 
vals the graceful animals were checked, that he might leap 
out to rush into friendly mansions to exchange the usual 
salutations of the joyous season. His reception, however, 
was not as formerly. For the most part he was met with a 
reserve, a coolness, a restraint visible or felt. Sometimes it 
escaped in a look, sometimes in a tone, sometimes in a word 
or passing remark, but in genei-al in the want of that kind 
civility accorded to all on this happy day. Sometimes a back 
was too conspicuous, or a shoulder too prominent, a greeting 
not returned, his compliments unnoticed, if an adoring crowd 
or hum of conversation permitted. He often entered with- 
out a friendly grasp of the hand, and was allowed to depart 
with a formal bow. As the hours flew by, as he rushed from 
house to house, through streets, avenues, squares, parks,’ and 
places of the extended corso ; as new faces perpetually 
appeared to disappear rapidly, each leaving some \dvid, dis- 
agreeable, and peculiar remembrance, he endeavored to 
arrange in his mind all the trials he underwent. 

A chill came over his limbs, a sinking at the heart, while 


THE METROPOLITES. 


453 


his brow was burning with fever, and temples' throbbed in 
the monotonous beat of a solemn march. But on, on he 
rushed headlong, desperate, determined to cease only when 
the Avhole course was run. His brain was full of harassing 
memories, from which was no escape, which followed him in 
full cry like a pack of wolves pursuing their hapless, helpless 
victim. He felt incapable of courageous action, of vigorous 
resistance ; his nerves were unstrung, his strength gone, 
borne along passive on the wings of irresistible destiny. At 
every instant some new wound was inflicted as onward he 
went. Where he hoped to find a smiling fltce, he encountered 
only a cold salute with incipient frown ; where the merry 
laugh was often heard, a silent, stately recognition alone 
revealed the change. The eye, the lip, the cheek, which 6nce 
gave him cordial welcome, were now no more the same. 

Drooping, shrinking in agony and shame, he hurried on, 
wishing the day were done and he far distant from the sight 
and sound of persons once endeared to him. Almost faint- 
ing at the thought of leaving his happy world behind, he saw 
before him a desert desolate of all he loved so well. But at 
times when life and all animation had departed, when he 
wished to give o’er without the strength or will to order it, 
some unexpected greeting with former genial warmth would 
come again ; some generous pressure of the hand would 
thrill electric through his veins. Like the refreshing stream 
to weary limbs, like a bright star in despairing darkness, like 
a cooling breeze to feverish brow, like a cottage light to 
benighted traveller, like a gentle maiden ministering sympa- 
thy at the couch of suffering, came these demonstrations of 
esteem and kindness, the more appreciated as they were the 
more limited in number. 

At last the list was ended, the final visit made, with no 


454 


THE METROPOLITES. 


more thresholds to pass. Leaping into his sleigh, he shouted 
“home,” in mingled agony and rage. He drew the luxurious 
furs around him as he threw himself back in the seat, buried 
in polar robes, to realize that sense of loneliness, of desert 
isolation from sympathy, a feeling unknown since early boy- 
hood. This day had been the most eventful in his life. 
Friends had forsaken him, social ties were broken, even com- 
mon civility rudely denied him, without a warning, without a 
hearing, without a ciime. A storm had bursted on his head, 
its lightning had blasted him, witheiing his nerves, blighting 
his happiness for ever. He felt its fires coursing through 
every vein, conscious that each and every incident since 
morning was engraven indelibly on his memory, to rise here- 
after, for the most part, hideous and hateful. Crushed to 
the earth he could not dream of future revenge ; too much 
humbled even to be gi*ateful to those who had not cast him 
off. What cared they for him now ? — ^incapable alike of 
further benefit or injury to friend or foe, where he had been 
once all powerful. But from such abasement often cometh 
the most unrelenting vengeance as well as never-ending 
devotion.- 

Oblivious to external objects when he arrived at his own 
door, the driver called attention to his waiting before he was 
induced to ascend to his rooms. A bath and some stimulants, 
however, restored somewhat his former tone of mind. But 
when the evening fire blazed in the hearth, when lights illu- 
mined the quiet, luxurious apartment, his wonted equanimity 
partially returned. Carefully and dispassionately he reviewed 
the events of the day. He knew he was forewarned, and 
vainly imagined himself forearmed. But he was now amazed 
at the numbers arrayed against him, which had covered him 
with confusion. For this he was not prepared, believing bet 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


455 


ter things of his better portion of mankind. Nor was he 
satished with the estimate he had put upon his acquaintances. 
It seemed as if many who at one time manifested the most 
attachment to him now threw him off, while those who had 
been formal and distant were now inclined to place him on a 
better footing. 

At first Nathan supposed it was only his intimates who 
were aware of the recent rumors about him, Avhich might 
explain their singular conduct, while those who still extended 
a welcome to him were less enlightened in the current gossip. 
But this conjecture he soon discarded as too improbable 
under the circumstances. He was apprised that his history 
was the theme of conversation for weeks in all circles wherein 
he visited, where opinions were formed after ample discussion. 
Trenk now asked himself if they all believed him an orphan 
pauper. To which his own common sense gave him an affir- 
mative answer. For he had refused to impart any expla- 
nation that might at one time have set this falsehood 
at rest, declining with much firmness to discuss his ante- 
cedents in infancy. Walter Parker, to be sm'e, was content 
to take his denial of the story, especially as of his own know- 
ledge he was aware Nathan was not in want in boyhood. 
This, too, was sufficient for some other gentlemen friends 
too much attached to him to credit anything to his detri- 
ment. 

But when Walter urged him to explain further, Nathan, 
with calm gentleness, remarked : “ Those who have the secret 
in their keeping will not disclose the facts ; and as I am per- 
suaded they are influenced by a sincere interest in my wel- 
fare, T cannot press for any revelations until they see fit to 
make them.” 

“Perhaps they have some funds in trust,” said Walter, 


456 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ which, the truth being known, your rights would compel 
them to give up.” 

To this suggestion Nathan only shook his head in dissent, 
and the conversation dropped. But his other friends did not 
know this. 

It was now impossible for him to form a right opinion of 
the motives which influenced persons in their behavior to- 
wards him since the unfortunate assertions were made about 
his early life. He thought the ladies with whom he was in 
daily intercourse knew him best, with a corresponding interest 
in his behalf; while others, those whom he saw but seldom, 
were indisposed to flavor much intimacy, would prize him far 
less. But this was a mistake ; yet still a very natural mis- 
take. One set courted his attentions, believing him rich, 
patrician, and distinguished, with rare accomplishments and 
innumerable attractions, making him an acknowledged leader 
of fashion. If they had any appreciation of his merits, they 
deemed their consideration secondary to other recommenda- 
tions more attractive to them. When it was proclaimed, 
however, that he was without both purse and pedigree, v/ith 
a pauper mark, moreover, against him, Thomas, the footman, 
received his standing orders for a corresponding change of 
front. 

But an inner circle revolves within the exclusive spheres 
recognised as fashionable, although not receiving all their 
laws and opinions with implicit faith as the rule of their 
conduct. This select set is still more refined because more 
retiring ; more sensitive because not bronzed by nightly dis- 
sipation and gas-lights into a golden coarseness ; more dis- 
criminating, with much time and reflection at command ; more 
fastidious in receiving introductions ; more cautious in dis- 
carding those whom they have once recognised. Now to 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


457 


these Mr. Treiik was known remotely, for they could 
not fail to meet him sometimes. But they marked him for 
good and evil in such a way as to debar him from their 
intimacy. His character as a gambler, libertine, dissolute 
spendthrift, would have closed their portals firm against him, 
had not their just, their proportionally high appreciation of 
his accomplishments, his prepossessing figure, his soft, win- 
ning manners induced them to tolerate him as a casual visi- 
tor, or as an ornamental guest useful at their entertain- 
ments. 

But the recent developments concerning his past career 
had taken them by surprise, creating an unusual interest, 
while affording much material for agreeable meditation. 
“ His merits, then,” said they, “ were all his own, which 
could not be denied ; the rumors of his dissolute habits were 
swept away to oblivion, while those moral qualities, consti- 
tuting solid worth, were found most wonderful, germinating 
in perfection in an unpropitious soil in the bosom of a little 
orphan, perhaps a pauper ; destitute, at least, of sedulous 
parental training, indispensable in boyhood. He needed no 
ancestors to accord him the prestige of gentility; he had 
given his own patent of gentleman under his own sign ma- 
nual ; more wonderful, indeed, than his music, his voice, his 
grace, intellect, intelligence, his manners and his person. 
With professional ambition, popular at the bar, industrious, 
moral, honorable, with a good heart, and fast rising to the 
front rank in legal distinction — these surely entitle him to 
notice and esteem. But the story of his refuge at the asy- 
lum is not proven to be authentic ; no one will vouch for it ; 
he contradicts it ; almost a pity that he does, poor fellow ; for 
how much more would he have our sympathy as well as our 
admiration. James, we receive this evening. James, remem- 
■ 20 


458 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


ber, please remember, James, when Mr. Trenk calls, we are 
always happy to receive him.” 

How could Nathan imagine such reflections as these were 
silently operating in his favor among the best i)eople to com- 
pensate for the many losses. As he sat, this evening, in a 
musing melancholy, ruminating on the disasters of the day, 
he could not refrain from recalling some of its incidents. 
Amid bitter reminiscences, he thought of Madam Raquetaque 
shunning his proftered hand, as she listened in silent impa- 
tience to his compliments, and then turning eagerly to wel- 
come the entrance of another. “ She will not forgive i?ie,” he 
thought, “for the mistake in bidding Madam Taqueraque 
good morning. Well, I did not intend it, but it is no matter, 
we will never speak again. Think of the impudence of the 
little Slapdash congratulating me ; so delightful, charming, so 
strange ; interesting to have a pauper-boy on her list, beg- 
ging me to call often ; such an attraction to her saloons, 
equal to a Brahmiu or Brazilian prince. Yes ! Madam, Avhen 
I exhibit, it will be with the Wandering Minstrels or at the 
Museum ; no engagement at private houses with my name to 
grace the choice collection of monstrosities ; and so farewell 
to your menagerie, as I told her in words more plain than 
polished. 

“ It was kind in young Mrs. Walters hoping to see more of 
me, ‘since giving up gambling.’ She must have believed 
that nonsense, being evidently delighted to find it a false 
report. Thank you, fair lady ; I will remember thee. The 
fat, fusty Mrs. Macaroon, too, that vulgar wife of the rich 
button-maker, insultingly turned her back, with the little 
daughters in tears at her rudeness. Maybe, mother-of-pearl, 
you may live to repent. And Sally Demors, too, was as cold 
as a tombstone ! J elly Demors, as W alter named her, is in a 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


459 


mood hymeneal with household thoughts, intent on Harry 
Dace. If a few words can poison liking, this holiday will 
not make her a Dacean mother.” 


CHAPTER XXXYH 

For many weeks after his discomfiture, Xathan felt keenly 
the slights put upon him by his lady friends. In truth he 
brooded over his wi'ongs much more than was prudent. He 
ought to have remembered that feeding the brain continually 
with one idea will produce mental indigestion, an unhealthy 
understanding. But all his hours, withdrawn from business, 
w^ere given to the contemplation of this disagreeable sub- 
*ject, until his well balanced judgment lost somewhat its 
equilibrium. Having met with this severe reverse, good 
sense would dictate, leaving to time to repair the injury, and 
to the natural current of events to bear him on once more 
into favor. Instead of this course, which, under any other 
misfortune felt less acutely, would have been adopted, he 
rashly resolved on controlling events by making them bend 
to his will. He intended, in the future, to take the initia- 
tive, to become an actor, where wisdom would have sug- 
gested his being a passive spectator. 

There is a subtle essence in human vitality which is the 
mainspring of our conduct. It belongs, in part, to physical 
and in part to mental organization, but it is equally affected 
by a moral or bodily shock, sufficiently strong to derange its 
functions* Whether it come from treachery in a friend or 
a gunshot wound, from ill-health or suddpn reverse in busi- 




TUE METROFOLITES. 


ness affilirs, from an unexpected calamity, in love, in affection, 
in ambition, inordinate hate, or in any other leading passion, 
let it only jar this sensitive mechanism, and the former 
smooth exercise of volition, of free agency, becomes un- 
hinged. Medical lore may call it a malady, but another well 
versed in nature’s mysteries alludes to it as the mind dis- 
eased, past the medicament of drugs. Be it Avliat it may, 
the unhappy victim is alone conscious of the change in its 
full extent, while unable to check its deleterious action. 
Change of scene or of seasons may, in time, restore intellec- 
tual vigor, but many fail of relief, and grope thfeir way 
through life to a grave of obscurity, where they at last find 
repose. 

Nathan, stung to the quick by the contemptuous reception 
where formerly a favorite, felt resolved on some retributive 
conduct by which his own self-respect would be regained. 
His attentions scorned, excited him to wage a rivalry, and in it 
to find his revenge. He would give up all society for the pre- 
sent. He would bend all the energies of the brain and of 
body to his profession, to rise superior and supreme to its 
highest distinctions. He would concentrate his talents for 
business in realizing splendid financial schemes, to be crown- 
ed with riches. Thus with wealth, with forensic and legal 
renown, with all the resources of taste, of literatui*e, of per- 
sonal gifts, he could ignore or look down upon those who now 
spurned him from their doors. He would create a new circle 
consecrated to all that was illustrious in human excellence. 
He would do honor to those eminent in science by throwing 
around them the enticing allurements and softening refine- 
ments of bewitching art ; all that was grand and ennobling in 
knowledge should be found mingling in happy intercourse 
with beauty, with wit, with those feminine enchantments 


' THE METROPOLITES. 


461 


born of the captivating intellect and entrancing loveliness. 
All should he appropriately combined amid those appliances 
of luxury, of voluptuous existence, amid music, the mazes of 
the giddy dance, sculpture, conservatories, paintings, perfumes 
of roses, fountains, with rich fabrics from eastern looms, in 
high halls of dazzling light and rare banquets. 

He would do more to accomplish this great end. Prompt- 
ed by the purest ambition, he would choose one who would 
adorn his existence, to add lustre to the sphere in which she 
moved. He would no longer remain alone, but unite himself 
with one in every aspect worthy of him and her high destiny. 
He reproached himself bitterly for not thinking of this before ; 
it was almost remorse with which he arraigned his past re- 
missness. As he recalled the many and varied mental and per- 
sonal attractions of Claudia, he felt she was in all respects his 
equal ; that he most ardently loved, too, where heretofore 
with folly he believed it was only appreciating admiration. 
This delightful feeling was the dawn of a new morning upon 
his clouded future, in which he revelled in the golden light, 
to bathe his soul in the beams of her beautiful eyes, to drink 
in her honeyed words that had fallen from her lips, pure as 
the mountain dew at daybreak. Even her pallid counte- 
nance no longer was a demerit, for he remembered at times, 
when warmed to animation in tender communion with him, or 
glowing from his embrace in the exciting waltz, the forehead 
and cheek lost for a moment their pallor, while a roseate hue, 
stealing over those classic featues, suffused her face with more 
than mortal sweetness. 

Full of this thought, intoxicated with the rapture which it 
diffused over his whole frame, he forgot his former high re- 
solves, and, lover-like, in the spring-tide of his passion would 
now have bartered fame, and wealth, and worldly pursuits, ibr 


462 


THE METROPOLITES. 


some sequestered cottage far from social ties to be with her, 
with her alone and love. Visions of coming happiness floated 
through his heated fancy, imtil he could see in the far distant 
vista of the future a life of usefulness, of honor, of enjoyment, 
and of splendor. His memory would recall him at frequent 
intervals to these day-dreams of Claudia, with the delight a 
lover feels, devoid of corroding jealousy and heai*t-breaking 
doubts. She would be all his own, and yet when most his 
own, he would bestow her to the world to claim their admi- 
ration, to do homage to her as their lovely suzerain in. her 
transcendent court of soul-subduing attractions. 

Thus enraptured Tsuth the theme, and with sweet sensations 
of the tender passion, it was not many days before he sought 
the house of Claudia to tell her of the change which had come 
upon him, to take counsel of their mutual joys, and sj)eak of 
that bliss in store for them through their life strewn udth 
roses on their path. It was late in the evening when the door 
of her home was opened for him to enter, where the dim soft 
glow in the hall and in the parlors beyond revealed a good 
omen of no untimely guests. Passing on through these luxu- 
rious drawing-rooms, he gave one hasty glance at the fatal 
picture, where, in the mellow but uncertain light, the 
wounded warrior seemed to express a laughing agony in his 
rage and despair, causing Nathan to start in horror, as if the 
old officer had come forth in mortal life to scowl upon him 
from within the wall for his daring assurance. 

Hastily he hurried on to dispel the horrible hallucination, 
as he entered the boudoir and music-room of his beloved 
lady. She was seated alone in one of those inanimate moods 
too often coming over her, when her Grecian figure, exqui- 
site in form as some masterpiece sculptured from Parian 
stone, drooped in sadness ; but her features, with the hue of 


THE METROPOLITES. 


463 


marble, intensely white, marred all the beauty which nature 
had lavishly bestowed upon her person. Her eyes expressed 
no fire nor inward emotion, when, with a slight gesture ac- 
knowledging his presence, she indicated a seat for him. ' Na- 
than was, however, too much absorbed in his own thoughts 
and purposes to closely scrutinnze the vein in which he found 
the fair Claudia, or scan the expression upon, her classic 
brow. He poured forth in a torrent of ardent eloquence his 
long pent-up passion ; he porti'ayed in strains of softness, 
with burning fervor, the feelings her many fascinations 
had inspired within his bosom ; he dwelt no less upon the 
devotion always her due when they, linked in mutual love, 
together should share their lives and happiness in common. 
Kneeling at her feet, he seized her listless hand to kiss it with 
ardor, to breathe those vows of constancy, of love, which 
rise readily to the lips of one so gifted. But the delicate 
fingers grew chill in his grasp, and their icy coldness thrilled 
through his veins. He slowly raised his eyes to look upon 
her face — when, suddenly springing to his feet, something 
like a suppressed cry of horror died away on his tongue 
and, aghast for an instant, he rushed bewildered, unconscious 
Irom her presence. 

The enraged lady could feel the scorn that mantled hei^ 
brow and flashed its fire from her eye. The insult quivered 
through her limbs ; a maddening despair at the proposed de- 
gradation with him, the base boy-pauper, sank the nails of 
her clinched fingers into her yielding palms ; her feet invo- 
luntarily crushed with an iron tread the pliant carpet ; her 
mouth filled with blood from her tongue, and her teeth 
grated* in her rigid jaws; words would not convey her de- 
testation of the proposal; she knew she expressed her inmost 
soul in an eloquence more powerful than language ; she knew 


464 


THE METROPOLITES. 


tlie paroxysm of hate upon her mind found an utterance more 
marked, more truthful, than in the faculty of speech ; she did 
not spurn him with her foot, but with her whole being of 
spiiit and body. She could extinguish him on the spot, but 
paused for the satisfaction of blasting him for years under 
her witherin']!: rebuke in silent loathing. 

She strode through the vacant rooms like some frenzied 
fury revelling in all the wantonness of vengeance. She sat 
upon an ottoman to concentrate her thoughts into a madden- 
ing climax of passion, but in the effort her physical strength 
failed, when she sank in a swoon prostrate to the floor, with 
her luxuriant hair flowing dishevelled over her alabaster 
neck and forehead. For hours she remained in this pos- 
ture, with quivering limbs alone indicative of the scathing 
volcano upheaving in her burning bosom. When the servants 
entered to extinguish the lights, she haughtily waved then^ 
from her, and sought her dressing apartment unaided. Dis- 
missing her waiting-maid, Avho had affectionately offered 
her services, she sat alone in her ample chair, with one 
foot resting on a floor-cushion. 

Slowly she removed her gaiters, and, with her fingers on 
the clasp of a stocking above her knee, she felt a languor 
come suddenly upon her, terminating in a dreamy heavi- 
ness, with closing of her long eyelashes in a pleasant sleep. 
Sleep, lady, sleep ! if this be victory ! Sleep, lady, sleep ! if 
thy duty be done ! Sleep, lady ! if love be not a pearl ever 
too precious to be scorned ! Sleep, lady, sleep ! love’s incense 
is holy, however humble the flame. 

Remember in thy fitful slumber that in times long past, 
even before the inexorable avenger Nemesis was invoked by- 
man to punish the unjust, in the primmval days of Saturn, 
earth-born, in the golden age of young Pan, mountain- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


4{';5 

nursed, when the lesser deities were unknown to an infant, 
innocent world, the altars of Venus alone smoked with offer- 
ings. Then were the sacred fires guarded by that old pro- 
genitor of the gods, the first, the grim Anteros, the scourge 
of love’s slighted sacrifice. Rest, lady, rest ! the temples of 
Paphos are destroyed, the lambent flame extinguished. 
From the smouldering ashes no punishment may be thine. 
What though nature was transformed to the ideal, though 
affections received an apotheosis, yet thy crime against 
Avomanhood, against the soft sensibilities of thy gentle sex, 
against the great primitive law engraved on the heart’s 
tablet, thy wanton wrong to pure love unfortunate, may 
for once escape its penalties. 

Claudia sleeps — a broken sleep pillowed on the deep throb- 
bings of her unquiet bosom, hushed by the inward lullaby of 
her slowly subsiding nerves. Her closing memory throws a 
last lingering look back upon the events of the day, as her 
senses glide into the land of dreams — that happy land, Avhere, 
under another influence, life clothes itself in a summer sunset 
of Elysian purity to tinge its emotions with golden colors, so 
that for fleeting hours the soul may assert its supremacy in 
subduing tenderness over mortals. In the soothing twilight 
of its phantom scenes the spirits of many flit by to weep, or 
to rejoice with each changing mood through the changes of 
the night. Nathan, too, comes again to kneel once more 
before her. 

His silent attitude implores her pity ; his tears from eyes so 
>eautiful fall thick upon his radiant cheeks ; the agony of woo 
upon his shining brow reveals despair within. Yet he is re- 
spliuident with beams, and breathes an atmosphere of love, 
enticing her within its seductive zone. Why does he weej), 
knowing her heart has entered his? Why despair while she 

20 -^ 


466 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


endeavors to tell him he is beloved ? She is growing cold in 
her body, her limbs are turning to stone, and it is for this he 
weeps, for this so wretched. Yes, his tears trickle down 
upon her fingers, his hand is upon her knee, as he stoops to 
kiss it, to bring back the warm life-blood with his burning 
lips. But it is too late. He chafes her arms, her neck, her bo- 
som, in vain ^ith his hands, hk cheek, his breath ; he presses 
his sweet mouth to hers in ecstasy, but all too late. She is no 
longer robed, no longer mortal, but nude marble, grieving 
to see herself a second Hiobe. Now she is petrified to solid 
rock, now congealed to Arctic ice, and in her freezing tor- 
ture, Claudia awakes. 

She awakes to find her night-dress fallen from her shoul- 
ders below her waist, and hei; knees uncovered ; she awakes to 
realize that, in her intoxicating, delicious dream, the cold air 
of the room has chilled her to the heart : threatening in its 
consequences some serious affection. Creeping by the dim 
light to her luxurious bed-room, she threw herself into the 
inviting couch, and while her flesh shivered, she laughed to 
tliink the sweet maiden might be slightly in love. 

With morning came the doctor. The excitement had 
brought on fever, and Claudia’s mother was summoned to her 
bedside long before day. Servants were called in attendance, 
for she was delirious in her mind, stange and extravagant in 
her words. The curtains were drawn back to permit the 
morning light to enter, so that sunbeams fell upon her hand. 
The family physician as yet had ministered no prescription : the 
pulse was toning down to a healthy beat : the florid hue of her 
complexion was fading away to a natural tint. With a long 
and steady gaze he watched the changes in her countenance, 
as he now and then consulted her pulse with her warm hand 
resting in his. He had never seen feminine beauty m his long 


THE METROPOLITES. 


467 


life ever so lovely as the sick patient before him. He -was 
expecting at each moment the rich color would vanish which 
thus rendered her irresistibly attractive, for her form and 
other personal endoAvments were to the utmost beautiful. But 
as the sunbeams slowly travelled over the bed, creeping away 
to illumine distant objects, and finally to quit the room, he 
was conscious much time had passed without any perceptible 
change. Her lips retained the subdued crimson shade of the 
delicate bud as it expands into the opening rose, while her 
cheeks, in the full flush of youth, were touched with the soft 
ruby tinge seen where the Aurora throws its bright rays upon 
snow. 

“ Madam,” said the old gentleman, turning to address the 
mother, “ the pulse is regular, the breathing quiet ; all danger, 
in fact, all unpleasant symptoms are gone. Your daughter needs 
no medicines, for she is well — perhaps weak, that is all. And 
now, my child,^’ caressing Claudia’s hand, “ I must steal a kiss 
for my fee, while I congratulate you on the recovery of color — 
all that was wanting to make you adorable.” As the doc- 
tor took his leave, he remarked in a low tone to her parent : 
“ She has experienced some unusual excitement, but it has 
afiected her system for the better ; her health is, I trust, re- 
stored.” 

“ Mother,” asked Claudia, when they were alone, “ have 
you ever had the measles ?” 

“ Yes, daughter.” 

“ How often, mother mine ?” 

“ Once only.” 

“ Have you ever been in love ?” 

“ What a strange inquiry !” 

“ Tell me how often, mother ?” 

“Why do you wish to know ?” 


468 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


“ I am sure I can never love again, for I love him too 
devotedly ever to change.” 

“ My daughter, you are still delirious ; of whom are you 
speaking ?” 

“ Of Mr. Trenk, to be sure. Do you approve of my affec- 
tions running away with me ?” 

“We will see, my child, when you are better. But has he 
made proposals ?” 

“ Yes, ma’am, he has ; and I, like a goose, put up my lips 
and pouted ; not that geese, the sensible bipeds, can pout or 
are furnished with lips to behave so silly. But Madam 
Miss Propriety, in propria persona^ your own dear 
daughter, I am afraid, did worse. She was rude and might 
have rejected him if she had not lost her tongue along with 
her prudence.” 

“ He has no fortune, Claudia.” 

“ He can make one.” 

“ He has no name.” 

“ He can make one.” 

“ N^o position in society.” 

“ He can make one.” 

“ I am afraid your choice is not judicious. But why were 
you uncivil ?” 

“ Oh, the old story, mother. I was in one of my despond- 
ing moods, when you know I am wretched about this Witch- 
of-Endor-face of mine, the color of wrapping-paper. I was in 
misanthropic reflections, a sort of Lady Macbeth, with simi- 
lar benevolent intentions to murder some one, when Mr. 
Trenk, just discarded everywhere, came in to offer his poor 
name and poverty to me.” 

“ He is to be pitied but not despised for his misfortunes.” 

“Well, no matter for that. I gave him a look which sent 


THE METROPOLITES. 


469 


him into the street, while it left me alone to my heavenly 
meditations. At first, I was in a rage at his audacity ; next, 
ashamed of my cruel behavior; then followed some pity, 
then former admiration : perhaps I dreamed the rest. But 
now I must retrieve my error and receive him hereafter in 
all kindness.” 

“ He may not return, my daughter ; an insult from a lady 
is seldom forgiven ; above all, by one so sensitive as he is.” 

“ Never mind, mother ; you know, if you will pardon me, 
the common adage, ‘ an old coal is easily kindled.’ ” 

“Not if it be anthracite. Hemember he has received a 
high polish — not susceptible by the specimen of fuel men- 
tioned in your proverbial philosophy.” 

Claudia did not prolong the discussion. Her mind was 
already revelling in the realms of fancy and future bliss with 
Nathan. She did not believe him poor, nor the former 
inmate of the Asylum. What if his birth were a mystery, 
it was surely not low, vile, or indigent ? She knew better, as 
all ladies know facts always are, as they wish them to be 
when they are in love. Nathan could and would explain at 
the proper time. Immediately she constructed in her imagi- 
nation a brown-stone palace in Belisarius Row, w’hich she^ 
peopled mthout the help of the Emigrant Aid Society. Her 
drawing-room was resplendent wdth toilets such as the 
world of fashion never equalled ; her evenings were reunions 
of beauty, of refinement, of renown ; her banquets were 
voluptuous repasts, unlike those she shuddered to think of, 
which the vulgar rich deemed inimitable. 

While she is selecting draperies, mirrors, marbles, works 
of masters, flowers, music, moonlight illusions, and a thousand 
things more, kno^vn among feminine primary virtues, it may 
be as well to observe how her musings resembled those of 


470 


THE METROPOLITES. 


E'athan, when he was, in despite of the warning in the nur- 
sery tale, counting his brood before the incubation had super- 
vened. It would be improper, in such choice society, to 
allude to an apophthegm in terms less select. Indeed, the 
intrusion of infants and infant stoi’y-books into parlors is 
strictly forbidden at all times. Children in arms are not 
admissible according to the bills of the play. But, as Nathan 
was not afflicted with a half-dozen of nurses and bonnes 
when teething, his cloth-covered primers came long after the 
croup ; hence the quotation from literature for babies, “ which 
no choice library will be without.” 

There was abundance of time, however, for Claudia to per- 
fect her household arrangements before she could be united to 
Mr. Trenk. The mother had resolved on a trip to Europe with 
her in the spring, perhaps a prolonged sojourn in Italy and 
Paris. It would be delightful in foreign capitals to arrange 
her future plans for domestic comfort.* A year or ^two was 
not much time lost when so many preliminaries had to be 
adjusted, so many details perfected. Indeed, the formal 
engagement need not take place till after a score or two 
perhaps of innocent flirtations and unexceptionable proposals 
had matured her innocent aflections in the virtuous atmo- 
sphere of continental modesty. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


471 


CHAPTER XXXVm. 

The great change which had taken place in Claudia’s com- 
plexion was soon the subject of general remark. Her friends 
observed with pleasure that not only her countenance, but her 
conversation, her flow of spirits, had been equally affected for 
the better. At first the impression prevailed she had i*esorted 
to artificial means to heighten, or, in truth, to create color. 
But when it became well known some physical cause alone 
had produced this pleasing result, her beauty was the theme 
of much congratulation. The season, to be sure, was well 
over ; but still her occasional appearance in public was enough 
to flx attention along with the unbounded compliments of 
gentlemen. Well might they now be found at her feet. 
Helen Xevil’s portrait of her at the Slapdash sensation was 
correct. Her moral culture, generous heart, feminine tastes, 
and fine sensibility were some of her virtues ; while in her 
beautiful figure, tall, of an exquisite shape, graceful as a fawn, 
with features classic and faultless, she was without a blemish 
for the criticism of a cynic. 

Claudia was now in her proper position in society. Courted 
and caressed on all sides, she received attentions with that 
winning ease of manner so natural, indeed, that it seemed she 
was grateful to every one for the compliments bestowed, 
and yet without indicating a preference for any of her ad- 
mirers in particular. All were gratified with her favorable 
reception of them and of their pretty speeches : for she knew 
how to appreciate, or rather how to feign appreciation of 
the many pretty speeches made. In dispensing her smiles she 
aj^peared to act on a benevolent impulse alone, with a careless 
ease which in its effect, however, embraced even the most 


472 


THE METROPOLITES. 


humble of her friends. No one could say his devotions had 
not been acceptable to her, nor yet could he flatter him- 
self he was the brightest beam in the atmosphere of her 
sunshine. 

But she looked in vain through the crowded saloons for^ 
the once familiar face of Mr. Trenk. Where he had been 
the most constant in his attendance, now he was no longer 
to be seen. His absence might perhaps have been felt by 
many whose entertainments were insipid at times without 
him, but no regrets were expressed, nor was his name men- 
tioned. He had quitted society. If he visited at all, it was 
but seldom, and then only in a few families for the most part 
where, on quiet evenings, he was not likely to meet the more 
ambitious and dissipated of his former set. A movement 
had been mnde at one time to reverse his outlawry, to recall 
him from the Ukraine, but it was discovered his feelings of 
silent dislike to the whole circle would not respond to their 
merciful leniency with any sentiments of gratitude. One 
lady indirectly opened negotiations, but he had not deigned 
even a verbal answer. 

Claudia flattered herself that she was the cause of his se- 
clusion from his former sources of pleasure. She imagined 
him brooding over his unhappy love in solitude, without any 
solace, refusing to be comforted by any of the usual remedies 
for the rejected. Although she wished to see him, perhaps 
comfort him in his pain, yet 'still she felt a feminine satisflic- 
tion in knowing he was afflicted at heart on her account. 
She only hoped it was a severe aflliction, from which no sud- 
den recovery was anticipated until she administered the 
soothing medicaments. Moreover, what did he think of her 
intended trip to Europe ? This would surely be sad news to 
him, which she must in some way smoothe down, so as not to 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


473 


leave him without hope. She would soon return — perhaps 
permit him to write to her during her travels. It would he . 
in had taste to go abroad having it said she was engaged. 
Good gracious ! Such a rumor even would find its way to 
Paris as surely as if printed in a passport. That would he a 
serious calamity, too serious to he endured. So, Mr. Trenk, 
you can wait a little longer for the happiness in store for 
you. Some pretty little appropriate song will cheer him up 
at the next meeting. He is fond of Moore’s melodies. Let 
it he, “ Go where glory waits thee, hut while fiime elates 
thee, still remember me or “ They say that absence con- 
quers love, hut I believe it not or how would it do to sing 
“ East, west, I care not whither, so thou art safe, and I with 
thee.” Yes, it must he done, and it will all he made up be- 
fore leave-taking. He can hid farewell on the steamer, so 
as to avoid any unpleasant scene in private theatricals. Why 
would the exalted Claudia thus torment her poor lover, 
Nathan? But first answer why do children torture pet- 
puppies ? 

But if Nathan had given up society, how was she to meet 
him at all ? Mr. Burk might give her some useful informa- 
tion on that point. But then, again, Morton was now so sel- 
dom seen in company. True, Mr. Parker would serve her 
purpose quite as well, and he was always with Emma Gray. 
It was said IVIr. Sabina was an intimate friend of Nathan ; 
but she disliked the hidalgo. She could not tell the cause, hut a 
something was about his eye which indeed made her shudder. 
After all she must hunt up Emma, to rely upon her true lover 
for Trenk’s whereabout. But Oh, to think if Walter only 
dreamed of her object, would he not he most unmerciful upon 
her ; would he not coin unheard of stories to tease and alarm 
her ? 


474 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


Claudia, however, looked in vain that evening for Emma, 
who was so frequently to be met. For now she was at home, 
shut up with a bronchial affection, to keep her secluded for a 
week. She was not de\dsing plans to render a lover mise- 
rable, but on the contrary, was innocent and happy in t’ce 
thought she was beloved, and reciprocated the affection with 
her whole heart. Although Emma was suffering from her 
throat, still she was in good sjiirits, almost joyous in her feel- 
ings, having now so much pleasure in anticipation ; and, more- 
over, the faithful Rosey was with her as her nurse, to comfort 
and to talk of her parents. In return, Emma told her of Mor- 
ton’s compliments on her toilet, and how she mystified him 
about Mrs. Santa Claus bringing all the dresses, jewelry, and 
other articles. 

“ Rosey, how do you relish being called the wife of Santa 
Clans ?” 

The nurse only smiled by way of answer. 

“But then I told him of your bonnet, which I magnified 
into a perfect fright.” 

“But, Emma, liow could you?” 

“ Only for the fun of it. He knew it was a jest. But seri- 
ously, Rosey, I don’t think you wear a very becoming bon- 
net.” 

“Did you tell Mr. Burk where the fine clothes came 
from ?” 

“ He must have known they were Mamma’s, or he would 
liave made me tell. Is it not strange he is my nearest rela- 
tive, and yet only a distant cousin. But he loves me like a 
brother. He is so kind, considerate, careful of me, and so 
much pleased with Walter’s attentions, for he told me so.” 

Thus with her cheerful conversation, Emma brought smiles 
into the face of the true-hearted woman, until she induced 


THE METROPOLITES. 


475 


Rosey in return to talk of the past. By some close, searching 
inquiries, Emma prevailed on her to explain the reason of her 
absence at the death of lier mother. But the facts Rosey 
mentioned were evidently stated with reluctance, as though 
it were a theme on which she did not desire to be questioned 
too closely. 

According to her account, however, it seems Rosey, at the 
instance of Mr. Gray, had purchased a few acres of ground in 
the suburb of Brooklyn, for which investment he had loaned 
her a fund of two thousand dollars. She was in hopes of 
being married to a young man named Gottlieb, who was ex- 
])ected soon from Germany. They were to live on the pro- 
perty when he arrived, to cultivate a market garden. 

This was the substance of her excuses. But she might have 
added, that another nurse had been procured for Emma’s 
mother while Rosey was in the country. The death of Mr. 
Gray was unknown to her until she read the melancholy news 
in the papers, along with the severe reproaches upon his 
character in the transactions about the bonds with Chester. 
At the .same time she learned from a German butcher that 
Mrs. Gray and the infant were both dead, with the sheriff in 
possession of the house and property. 

With all haste Rosey returned to the city ; but on inquiry 
at her late home, she found it occupied by an officer of the 
law, who was too much engrossed with his business to give 
her any information. A neighboring servant-woman, how- 
ever, imparted to her the confirmation of the distressing 
intellio-ence. She said that it was well known the nurse had 
gone away and the child was dead. Rosey, therefore, gave 
up all further search, to return to her little property to await 
the arrival of her betrothed. But with the next European 
mail she received letters informing her that young Gottlieb 


476 


THE METROPOLITES. 


before be could leave for America, was drafted into the 
army, to sicken within a few months, and had died in 
hospital. Thereupon she returned to the city to live, to offer 
her services to ladies as a clear-starcher. 

She did not wish, perhaps, to tell all the circumstances 
attending the death of Mr. Gray, as it was evident from her 
manner she still believed he was imprisoned for a crime 
which consigned his name to infamy, and that the stigma had 
never been effaced since his death. She gave no explanation 
of the acres purchased for a market garden, nor any account 
of the money loaned to her by Mr. Gray. In truth the pro- 
perty was soon absorbed within the limits of the city of 
Brooklyn, to be cut up into lots. And after twelve years’ 
possession, she sold it at a most astonishing advance on the 
original cost. In the meantime she made investments in 
houses on the street where she now lived, and experienced 
the beneficial effects of a similar rise in the value of her tene- 
ments. 

Emma wished to ask her many questions about her love^-, 
about the market garden, and about her mode of liying sub- 
sequent to her return to the city. But Rosey was oppressed 
with a load of sad reminiscences, and begged her not to in- 
quire further on these subjects. The conversation ended as 
it always had heretofore on this topic, by Rosey experiencing 
a return of the utmost grief and self-reproach in leaving 
Emma for so many years without her care and protection. 

While Emma was thus engaged in her own affairs, which 
were now in such a pleasing, prosperous train, it is not to be 
supposed she was very watchful of the conduct of her friend 
Claudia. Nor was Morton Burk especially interested in the 
movements of one whom he seldom met except in company. 
Morton had his own love troubles to occupy his time with 


THE METliOPOLlTES. 


477 


the Rose-Bud, in the Bowery, where he was to be found 
nightly, unless the gallant Major Waywode was A^dth her at 
some of the usual places of amusement. ' Moreover, it was 
quite fortunate Walter was not met when Claudia desired to 
learn where Nathan now wandered since her last lamentable 
interview with him. Fortunate, indeed, for Waiter had acci 
dentally obtained an inkling of the rejected proposals, with 
Claudia’s rage and subsequent events, through some mutual 
interchange of gossip among family servants. 

Claudia was, however, destined to meet her discarded lover 
a few weeks thereafter when least anticipating that pleasure, 
but when most agreeable — when it was most a surprise. The 
charming Mrs. Papyrus, the wife of an eminent advocate liv- 
ing on Strawberry Park, having learned Claudia’s intention 
to travel abroad, gave her an invitation to a quiet dinner, to 
which Emma was the only additional guest. On the morning 
of the day designated, however, Mr. Papyrus sent a note from 
his office down town to his wife, informing her that he had 
asked two gentlemen friends to dine with him, without his 
being aware of the previous arrangements. 

This hospitable intent of the advocate was only an addition- 
al pleasure and an additional leaf to his lady’s extension-table. 
Claudia and Emma arrived long before the dinner hour, for it 
was to be, they believed, only a private festivity. They were 
not aware of more company being expected, until Mr. Trenk 
entered the drawing-room, who was also as much surprised to 
meet the ladies. For Nathan’s note from Mr. Papyrus wish- 
ed liim to meet the celebrated lawyer, Mr. Drummond, from 
the country, to talk over some business matters. 

The meeting between Claudia and Nathan was cordial, with 
an interchange of those pleasing civilities which tliey were 
always accustomed to extend to each other. “ I expected to 


478 


THE METROPOLITES. 


meet a gentleman to talk law,” said Nathan, with his sweetest 
smile. “ How agreeable to find my presence has been obtain- 
ed under such false pretences.” 

“Do not flatter yourself that you were imposed upon,” 
said the hostess, “ for another gentleman is coming to whom 
I am afraid we will have to give y®u up.” 

“ If it is a sacrifice on your part, I will rebel ; I am sure 
Miss Emma here will join me in the revolt.” . 

“Enlist Claudia, too,” cried Emma, “if you wish for a 
successful resistance.” 

“ With her aid I could conquer the world.” 

“ He is ours to-day,” said Claudia ; “ we shall not willingly 
part with him, nor without a struggle.” 

“ Being then unanimous, let us lose no time,” Nathan 
exclaimed ; “ let us commence the campaign with a waltz.” 

“ Not before dinner,” interposed the matron. 

But Claudia had already acquiesced in the proposal, there- 
fore Mrs. Papyrus opened the piano to furnish the music. 
While the beautiful couple were moving gracefully through 
the parlors, the husband and the expected guest entered. 
This interruption of course ended the performance, when mu- 
tual introductions took place with the learned Mr. Drummond, 
he looking in vain everywhere for that able counsellor who 
he was led to believe would be present to take part in their 
after-dinner consultation. 

At the request of Mr. Papyrus, Claudia seated herself at 
the musical instrument, when, finding Nathan at her side, 
she turned over some music leaves slowly, and at the same 
time, in a low voice, sweetly remarked : “ Let us forget the 
past, if I have your forgiveness. Come and see me. Can I 
say more ?” Nathan replied that his immediate absence at 
Washington would only deprive him of the pleasure, and 


THE METROPOLITES. 


479 


Claudia, ha^dng thus smoothed over her late behavior to her 
own satisfaction, sang some pretty pieces with much feeling, 
in fine voice, ha^sfing Nathan’s invaluable assistance in the 
appropriate parts. 

At dinner Mr. Drummond was not in the highest state of 
felicity. He felt disappointed in not meeting some distin- 
guished lawyer who he was led to anticipate would be 
present. He also was vexed to observe a fine young gentle- 
man, such as Mr. Trenk seemed to be, wasting his time and 
talents in the fi-ivolous pursuit of ladies, of music, and waltz- 
ing. Why does he not turn his attention to some ennobling 
object ? thought the rural Theban. How much better for the 
youth to have studied the law than spending the best years 
of his life in these worthless amusements — not that he ever 
could succeed at the bar with his feminine habits and tastes ? 
Mr. Drummond was pleased, however, to think Claudia the 
most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. She appeared to 
him the most lovely being in the universe — one of those rare 
divinities that seldom vouchsafe their presence to mortals. 

Lawyers are known to have inflammable materials in their 
composition in the region of the heart. Some of them have 
stood as high in the court of Cupid as at the footstool of 
Themis. Indeed the whole profession may be accused of 
some devotional rites to the blind god, however much out- 
ward demeanor may cover from observation their internal 
emotions. The statue of Justice may be at all times the 
avowed object of their adoration; but it is the other dhd- 
nity of ophthalmic imperfection who is often the incentive 
to their ambition. A successful advocate, like an accepta- 
ble lover, must be inspired with the most tender and ardent 
sensibility. The transition from one character to the other 
is not only tempting but is equally common. 


480 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


Inspired by Claudia’s loveliness, Mr. Drummond, dismissing 
from his mind the disappointment, resolved to make at least 
an agreeable impression, if he had been unfortunate in find- 
ing liis time thrown away. Witli much ease he assumed the 
lead in conversation. Fluent and witty, with playful sar- 
casm, and just enough acidity in his remarks to leaven his 
apparent great benevolence of heart, he could pursue a 
thought into laughable nonsense or trace it to an unanswera- 
ble paradox ; he could assert a proposition in a terse epi- 
gram ; or, if he wished to dwell upon a subject, each word 
conveyed some interesting or amusing thought, no less pleas- 
ing from the varied inflections of a musical voice. Whatever 
topic he touched upon was to leave upon it the light impress 
of his brilliant mind, as he passed on to something new and 
entertaining. Claudia was astonished at the facility Avith 
which at will he recoined words or applied them in playful 
defiance of dictionaries, and remodelled grammar in a manner 
no less grotesque. The smile elicited at each verbal novelty 
would be followed rapidly by another at the double sense in 
which it was used. 

Not for an instant did the interesting lawyer compromise 
his dignity or self-respect in the midst of the merriment he 
created. Grave and sententious when indulging in the most 
absurd allusions, he was at the same time simple and fasci- 
nating in his intonations. When he expressed some wdtty 
thought, his words seemed to flow in a quiet current from his 
brain ; but if there were feeling in the sentiment, it was re- 
vealed in language coming directly from his bosom. His 
utterance 0(x*asionally suffered for a moment from some inter- 
nal impediment, which you might imagine was a correspond- 
ing emotion struggling with his tongue ; sometimes it was a 
suppressed laugh forbidding oral ex])ression to the ludicrous ; 


THE METROPOLITES. 


481 


sometimes a tender throb vainly striving to smother its own 
publicity. 

Hours passed in this agreeable maimer were not noticed as 
they flew far beyond the usual time allotted to the pleasures 
of the table. When at length the ladies rose to quit the room, 
Mr. Papyrus, seconded by the gentlemen, interposed against 
their leaving. Nor was much entreaty requisite to induce 
them to remain. They were quite willing to listen to any in- 
tellectual display which the occasion might call forth. For 
this purpose, while they moved to a distant quarter of the 
apartment where some inviting seats suggested listless femi- 
nine comfort, the gentlemen resumed their conversation, with 
their fair company in the background, but within hearing 
distance. 

The country lawyer, however, seemed to lose his inspirit- 
ing animation with this movement. Nor could the many 
efibrts of his host induce him_ to resume the lead. He was 
now as willing to follow as he was before to act the pioneer. 
The disjointed observations, however, inclined to the law 
subjects, with Mr. Papyrus as the principal speaker. After 
stating the points upon which it was important their opinions 
should be collated, he gave his OAvn views with much force 
and brevity, but at the same time intimating great deference 
for any other aspects of the business that might on consul- 
tation be presented. As many of his observations were 
addressed particularly to Trenk, seemingly to invite his 
assent, Mr. Drummond permitted his expressive features to 
indicate a slight surprise. What, thought he, has the fashion- 
able young gentleman to do with this matter ? lie can neither 
comprehend nor be interested in these questions, so foreign 
to his studies. 

But when Nathan let fall some trivial comments, Mr. Drum 

21 


482 


THE METROPOLITES. 


mond became aware that he was of the profession at least. 
His profound attention, thought he, is one good omen in his 
favor, while his casual inquiries indicated undoubtedly an 
understanding of the merits of the discussion. Heither the 
magnitude of the interests involved nor the intricate ques- 
tions for solution deterred Trenk from taking a calm and 
clear conception of the whole matter. Hot only were the 
principles upon which it would turn deemed unsettled, but 
their consideration involved an examination of the common 
and civil law and constitutional jurisprudence. To grapple 
with 5uch gigantic obstacles might well induce the coimtry 
advocate to believe beyond the legal strength of one so 
young, however promising his talents. 

After hearing the statements of the two gentlemen. Hath an, 
with much modesty and with seeming reluctance, expressed 
his conclusions. He re-stated the facts, as if inviting them 
to correct any misconceptions on his part. But the mere 
statement in his lucid manner, in logical order, not only dis- 
pelled the mists in some places, but disposed of more than 
half the doubts which had been expressed. This clear con- 
ception of the case was an effort of genius in itself; but yet 
so simple, natural, and apparently so easy, that none but 
tliose trained to high forensic powers could appreciate its 
superior excellence. But when the counsellors were disposed 
to anticipate a certain victory, Hathan destroyed their san- 
guine expectations by adverting to the former rulings on the 
law points, or on similar w^hich came nearest to those now to 
be met. He reviewed all the decisions in like cases in the 
liighest and ultimate tribunal, giving a history of each, with 
its final disposition, along with the reasons upon which it was 
supported. On this branch of the subject the range of his 
intellect and memory astonished no less than it gratified the 


THE METIIOPOLITES. 


48a 


gentlemen. It was a pleasing novelty to observe the fluency 
with which he spoke in conveying his thoughts in the fewest 
words, and how long reports in the books were condensed 
into a few sentences. Finally, after a full consideration of 
eveiything, he believed the business was narrowed down to 
two propositions, which he mentioned, and both had been 
decided in their favor. 

“ But remember,” said he, “ it may be questioned if the 
Court wdll in future hold to the law as they have heretofoi e 
declared it. Their rigid adherence to precedent, which is 
called consistency, may induce them to persist a little longer, 
until the error becomes palpable ; but sooner or later conimon 
sense, or, if you choose, more enlarged views, must make them 
. reverse. It is a singular fact that in the first decisions, when 
the first mistakes were made, the most able counsel in the 
Union conducted the arguments on both sides, with jurists 
on the bench unsurpassed for learning and ability. Yet in 
consequence of the Court being led oif by discussions at the 
bar on imaginary cases which might happen, the law was 
decided to cover those that have never come up, while another 
class, like this of ours, has been sprung upon them that 
they never dreamed of, to which their decisions, if applied, 
would bear some resemblance to the perversion of justice 
and reason. We have therefore the law with us, et preterea 
nihilP 

The ladies were much interested with an exposition of 
learning and opinions so foreign to their accustomed topics. 
Claudia listened in delighted attention, well aware of the pro- 
found impression Trenk’s observations produced on the gen- 
tlemen, from their respectful demeanor and from their 
casual remarks. She felt proud of her choice in recognising 
in him the qualities that make men of the highest eminence 


484 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


and distinction. Her gratified feelings fed the flame of her 
love, until conscious her passion had become a principle in 
her existence as it was also an absorbing thought in mind 
and heart. 

When Mr. Drummond was taking his leave he found an 
opportunity to whisper a farewell to her. “I am blessed 
with few of those white pebbles,” said he, “ with which the 
ancients preserved the memory of days passed happily. But 
this must be marked with one, if not more, for I have been 
enchanted with more beauty than ever entered my dreams, 
and by an intellectual treat seldom bestowed upon us law 
mortals.” 

Nathan escorted Emma to her home, and as the night was 
clear and pleasant for pedestrians, they were in no haste to * 
end their walk. He knew of her engagement, so that he 
talked affectionately of Walter — the theme most acceptable 
to her. He dwelt upon his good feelings, his correct princi- 
ples, his sense of honor, his filial devotion to his mother. He 
paid a just tribute to his long and tried friendship, the more 
remarkable as he had but few attachments. His high stand- 
ard in estimating men had tinged his mind with cynicism 
in observing how far they fell short of it. His appreciation 
of female excellence had led him to place a low estimate on 
many of his lady acquaintances. Hence he was not much 
given to sentiment, supposing it would be lost upon them. 
He was therefore addicted to sarcastic levity, until they be- 
lieved him incapable of much feeling ; as if it could originate 
except in the deep and painful emotions of a too sensitive 
heart. 

“ But I am sorry, very sorry,” said Emma, “ he injured 
you by his thoughtless jest about Mr. Chester being at the 
Asylum.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


485 


“ It was no injury to me,” Nathan replied, with a merry 
laugh. “No answer is so effectual to a siQy falsehood as 
another equally absurd.” 

“ I am glad you think so, for I grieved much about it and 
about yomalso.” 

“ Set your heart at rest about me. I never will disgrace 
myself, and my parents have not as yet.” 

“ Then you are not uhhappy ?” 

“ I am afraid that I am. Recent events have given me a 
further insight into human nature, and unhappiness has come 
with the knowledge.” 

“ I hope you may find your parents.” 

“ I hope not, for I am afraid some crime required expiation, 
and I am the sacrifice. The sins of the father are -visited on 
the children. Your sainted parent, now in heaven, I trust, 
did one great wrong in breaking the heart, in blighting the 
life of the old Lady Dowager. Has not some of his punish- 
ment fallen on you ?” 

Emma burst into tears. “ I am airaid so,” she cried ; “ but 
I never before thought of it. Yet it was not a crime, but 
only cruel conduct to her.” 

“No, it was not a crime degrading, a crime amenable 
to human penalties ; but it was no less a crime, even if imper- 
fect society, impotent civilization, could not mete out an ade- 
quate punishment. But, perhaps, what I say is painful to 
you?” 

“Not at all ; no, go on ; tell me more,” she replied, cling- 
ing closer to his arm. 

“ Let him beware who trifles with human affections ; they 
are akin to the soul, investing perishable creatures with the 
ennobling emotions and attributes of immortality. The heart 
that is trampled upon is avenged in some way.” 


486 


THE METROPOLITES 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The unhappiness of Xathan was produced by the disruption 
of social ties, his sources of amusement and relaxation in his 
idle hours. He was thrown upon himself to find comfort in 
solitude, or to form new habits, at the time when he most 
wanted the presence and inspiriting influence of old friends 
ill agreeable scenes to console him for his disasters. Who- 
ever broods over misfortunes, real or imaginary, will soon re- 
alize enough of mental suflTering to make him miserable. But 
Nathan’s time was too much occupied at this particular period 
to permit many leisure moments for any desultory or selfish 
reflections. He was called to Washington to attend to his 
important cause, from which he was not released until the 
rising of the Court in the spring of the year. 

He hastened home, only at the last instant to bid farewell 
again to his old friend Baron Altberg on the steamer just 
starting for Europe. There, also, he met Claudia for the first 
time since the dinner with Mr. Papyrus. She, too, was on 
her way to the continent. Nathan regretted her leaving 
without an opportunity having been afforded him to see her at 
least for an evening, as he had so much to say. Indeed, he 
added, he had been travelling all night that he might not 
miss a parting salutation. Much more did he express in the 
same strain, for he never before had been half so lavish of his 
compliments : nor had Claudia ever received with more plea- 
sure his graceful assurances of regard. Nathan exerted him- 
self to make a favorable impression, more especially as he 
wished to conceal all previous ignorance of her intended de- 
parture until meeting her on deck. True, he travelled all 
night, but it was to have a parting word with the Baron. He 
did not purchase his ticket with any thoughts of her flight. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


487 


He spoke of Altberg being on board, whom he extolled in 
flowing terms, and begged permission to present him. Clau- 
dia was delighted at the good fortune of knowing Trenk’s 
intimate friend, and the Baron was introduced. Nathan 
availed himself of the first leisure moment to instruct him as 
to her merits, well knowing he would be channed with her. 
In this he was not mistaken, for on the passage, the weather 
being calm, they had many hours for coiivei-sation, Nathan 
being their theme, especially as he was at the commencement 
their only common topic. 

But when Nathan resumed his usual routine of life in the 
city, he found some days dragging heavily, to pass in disquiet 
if not in solitude. Through business hours scenes were now 
as formerly ; but in the evening, up town, how different were 
his occupations. His lady friends 'were for the most part 
given up, while Walter, and Morton, and Sabina were not 
to be met with at the club or other places of common 
resort. 

Sabina had brought trouble upon himself. He was con- 
scious he was watched by Charles Nevil. He was afraid 
spies were set upon his every movement without any inter- 
mission by day or night. Open war he (iould meet to suc- 
cessfully overcome; but this secret, unrelenting pursuit 
wherever he went, whatever he did, might at any moment 
end with his assassination in the street or his drowning in 
the river. The wretch believed Nevil capable of his own 
baseness. He knew, moreover, the crime he meditated me- 
rited the most summary vengeance. For these reasons he 
wished to arrange his affairs to quit the city for ever. 

Summer had now nearly set in, when Nathan found him- 
self thus without either his former society or the gentlemen 
with whom he had been most intimate. He had neither the 


488 


THE METROPOLITES. 


desire uor energy to go to the country. The Druids had gone 
abroad. At Newport and other watering-places he would 
meet too many unpleasant people to render his visit agreeable. 
It was better to remain at home or pass his time on the yacht 
Tlieodolinda, which was put in commission for the season, 
vith a full complement of men and stores, with every con- 
ceivable luxury to entertain even royalty, if any branch of 
it should desire to fare sumptuously in our waters. His part- 
ners in the craft, Dace, Pactolus, and two more, were all ab- 
sent. Morton alone remained, who had an interest with 
him. But to be on board without company was rather too 
much solemn grandeur for comfort. 

Wliile sitting one evening solitary in his quiet apartments, 
he was agreeably surprised by an unexpected visit from Wal- 
ter Parker. The position and mood, however, in which he 
found Trenk, no less excited his astonishment than pity for 
the poor fellow. AU his animation was gone ; his flow of 
convi\dal eloquence was hushed f his easy manners, at all 
times graceful and winning, were now tinged with a melan- 
choly softness which, though pleasing, was still somewhat 
painful. Walter had not come on a visit of consolation, with 
well prepared phrases of condolence made up for the occasion. 
His object was a loving, friendly call upon Nathan, with a 
small modicum of latent curiosity to find out how he bore up 
under his savage rejection by Claudia ; for the correspondence 
exchanged between certain kitchen cabinets had revealed to 
him some secrets of the higher contracting powers. 

Walter essayed to break the spell in which his friend was 
boimd. He alluded to every cheerful subject in which he 
imagined Nathan could be interested. He perpetrated good 
witticisms and plenty of bad puns ; he was epigrammatic 
and , sarcastic in turn ; told two or three anecdotes, and re- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


489 


cited a parody on a new popular song. Seeing a copy of 
Rokeby lying on the table, he picked it up, exclaiming: 
“ This reminds me of a gem set in the music of the serenade 
in Pasquale : 

“ Gentle heart, with plenty of tin, 

Take, oh take, the Hard-up in; 

I have wandered all the day. 

With not a dime wherewith to pay. 

Gentle heart, I am next of kin 
To a Hong-Kong China mandarin. 

“ Come, old fellow,” he continued, tossing down the book, 
“ no more of your moping, but give us some music if you 
won’t talk,” at the same time opening the pianoforte. 

Nathan could not resist the kind intentions of his friend to 
dissipate his low spirits. With an effort, therefore, he as- 
sumed a more cheerful aspect, and seated himself at the in- 
strument. 

“ Now, my dear sir,” said he, running his fingers over tlie 
keys, “ mark me now. Now will I raise the waters, as Laim- 
celot Gobbo says in the play.” 

“ Do it if you dare, as the maid said in defiance when want- 
ing to be kissed.” 

“ I will dare, then,” Nathan replied, as he touched the 
notes to the pretty little song of “ Oh leave me to my sorrow, 
for my heart is oppressed to-day.” He sang the verses with 
feeling, with too much pathos for Walter to restrain his emo- 
tions. A tear started in his eye, which would have stolen to 
his cheek had he not checked it, as Nathan ceased with a 
quiet smile of triumph at Walter’s discomfiture. 

“ Trenk, you are a humbug, a precious humbug, colossal 
at piling on the dismals.” 


21 * 


490 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ What would Mr. Parker’s lady friends think if they heard 
of his weeping over some sentimental poetry ?” 

“ Why did you not sing that to a certain fair nymph ? It 
might have affected her movements, and postponed an ante- 
nuptial tour to Europe.” 

“What do you know of that matter?” cried Nathan, seri- 
ously, with some sm'prise. 

“ More than you imagine ; the infernal babble of servants, 
and their — ” 

“ Good heavens, did they see — ” but checking some indis- 
creet revelation on his tongue, Trenk added in a lower tone, 
as if thinking aloud : “ No, no ; impossible ; I will not be- 
lieve it,” covering his face with both hands. 

“ You take it too much to heart. I am truly sorry for 
your misfortune,” Walter said, soothingly. 

“ Take what to heart — what misfortune ?” asked Nathan, 
raising Lis head suddenly wdth a good-humored smile on his 
face. 

“ Your dismissal by Claudia, to be sure.” 

Nathan almost laughed as he replied : “ Then I am indebt- 
ed for your sympathy this evening — your forbearance, to my 
stupidity — to a kind commiseration for me, a discarded lover.” 

“ Why, is it possible you were not rejected ?” 

“ Be comforted, my dear friend ; my troubles do not come 
from that source. I stand as well in her favor as I can wish ; 
much better than I deserve if she knew all.” 

“ It rejoices me to hear it. Then you are lucky enough to 
be able to speak with due humility and becoming modesty of 
your success.” 

“ Sometimes I reproach myself,” Nathan replied, “ for not 
giving you more of my confidence in my personal matters, for 
I am gratified to think you are interested in my welfare. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


491 


But circumstances have formed my habits, especially one, 
which is, seldom if ever to speak of myself While through 
life I have felt the deepest gratitude to you for unremitting 
kindness, I fear I have not repaid it in the way it deserved, 
by giving you a better insight into my feelings and thoughts.” 

“ I supposed I always had your confidence.” 

“ More than all others ; yet not as much as was your right. 
But it was only my reluctance which restrained me.” 

“ I was grieved to think Claudia had rejected you.” 

“ Were I this moment in the position of an unfortunate sui- 
tor, I could not speak of it, as it would then be a confidential 
subject in which another is involved, for ever closing my lips. 
But I presiune she would now trust to my discretion, although 
I must assure you no understanding exists between us.” 

“No engagement, then ?” 

“No engagement of any kind. My depression of spirits 
originated in other causes — isolation from former circles of 
friends, from seeing you so seldom since your happy rela- 
tions with Emma, from not meeting Morton often, who un- 
fortunately is passionately in love with the pretty Rose-Bud ; 
while even Sabina has changed into a gloomy, selfish misan- 
thrope. I have now no pleasant associations — thrown upon 
myself, to be miserable when not employed in business.” 

“ Summer is coming on ; you^will then have dissipation 
enough.” 

Nathan only shook his head sorrowfully in reply. 

“ Try something new — new places, new people, new popu- 
larity,” Walter suggested. 

“ I am afraid I am spoiled. Having enjoyed the best soci- 
ety, I cannot descend to mix with an inferior.” 

“ Trenk, my boy, that remark would be appropriate in the 
mouth of a. Cockney. You have seen the best society, but 


492 


THE METROPOLITES. 


not all of it in the country, nor the half of it. Besides, you 
have seen some of a very bad set. For, my Lord Chancellor, 
you are a man of an unbounded stomach for soft-soapy-ifer- 
ous speeches from fair ones whose refinement is not deeper 
than their dry goods. And how have they served you ic 
the hour of need ? Think a moment of these hags. Slapdash, 
Raquetaque, Jelly Demo rs, old Mother of Pearl, and other 
crinolated witches whose illiterate minds are stuffed with 
dairy-maid jealousies and tlie petty passions of apple-women 
or fish-venders. Their position has thrown the fashionable 
cloak of sycophantic charity over their innate, uncultivated, 
vulgar souls. These are some ‘ elegant extracts ’ from your 
visiting-book of beauty in the best society. You, cannot mix 
with inferior people after breathing the upper air of such 
purity ! Thank the Lord there are not many of them ; but 
enough to taint that atmosphere of excellence, in moral, 
mental, social qualities, where modest, gentle, refined man- 
ners, and other pleasing accomplishments are found in per- 
fection, and where you nibble your ambrosia and sip your 
nectar among the divinities.” 

“ Those you mention are exceptions, the black sheep of the 
flock; nor. had I much intercourse with them,” Nathan re- 
plied, laughing. 

“ Still you had no prejiidice against that kind of mutton. 
Therefore your taste is not as delicate, as dainty, as you 
would have me believe. Had they not offended by a cold 
cut, you would never have made an outcry about the color 
of the wool.” 

“ Let us have some more, O Diogenes. I deserve it all,” 
cried Nathan, highly amused at his friend’s criticism. “But 
what shall I do ? Where can I go ?” 

“ You can go where is the refinement of the metropolis 


THE METROPOLITES. 


493 


mixed up with its coarseness, its intelligence, and its igno- 
rance. You can go to the South.” 

“ I never thought of that,” said Nathan, desirous to pro- 
long the conversation, as Walter was now in one of his 
communicative, colloquial moods. 

“ I believe you ; I believe you, my boy. You know no 
more of Southern people than of the South pole.” 

“ Enlighten me, then, before I undertake a voyage of dis- 
covery.” 

“ You are the very Christopher Cohunbus for them, my 
beloved Nathan. Take the yacht and set sail ; but by all 
means have Morton with you. His caj^illary attractions on 
brandy are prepossessing and persuasive among the young 
natives. Cruise along the coast till you reach the latitude of 
Mullen’s Island, that famous summer resort for sea-bathing 
nymphs.” 

“ Please repeat the name of the Island ?” 

“ Mullen’s, Mullen’s Island, in one of the aristocratic States 
South. If your cultivation of geography did not end where 
that of cotton begins, you would have been better posted. 
That is the field worthy of your ambition. The people are 
wealthy, patrician, and planters. No sectional jealousy 
among them ; for a noble bay sets up to separate confiicting 
interests, to keep the peace, with plenty of oysters, fish, ter- 
rapin, and water-fowl — some of the wise provisions of nature, 
excellent on the chafing dish, to preserve harmony in the 
State. The government is patriarchal; nothing plebeian in 
any party platform : an established religion to swear by, and 
a legislative representation not disturbed by census-tables, 
but fixed on an immutable imaginary line drawn through the 
oyster-beds, shad-fisheries, and feeding-grounds of wild duck. 
That is the demarcation, the natural division of governmental 


494 


THE METROPOLITES. 


power. The staple productions are turpentine and sweet 
potatoes, tobacco and turkeys, rice and roasting ears of corn 
at camp-meetings. Sea Island cotton and short crops, with 
Presidential elections.” 

“ Happy they must be with abimdance in their material 
comforts ?” 

“ Very true ; but their minds are as well cared for. Their 
schools are on the university system in magnitude, held in 
the open air, with Congressional professors to lecture on the 
science of things in general, impassioned and mournful in 
their instruction, with a Sorrows-of-Werter eloquence while 
standing amid the ruins of the constitution of -a dilapidated 
country. The rising generation graduate on Cuba cigars 
made of the choice Connecticut narcotics, and on full columns 
of political newspapers, carefully expurgated of contemptible 
information on other subjects. The learning of their ripest 
scholars is immense. Some of their best commentaries on the 
Buncombe absti actions would compare favorably for profound 
research, luminous exposition, and explosive power, with a 
Leyden jar surcharged with a high Dutch six hours’ lecture 
on German metaphysics.” 

“ Stop a moment. Master Walter. Could you not connect 
that last idea in some way with telegraphing wires ?” 

“ A vulgar suggestion, Kathan, unworthy a lofty, generous 
intellect. These matters have the rare merit of soaring above 
the useful, the practical. Plato himself, in his philosophy, is 
not more free from such a base imputation.” 

“ But it must come down to a business point at last ; for 
who pays the printing and the publishing ?” 

“Nobody, of course; nobody, to be sure. AU done by 
the Government and the General Post-Ofhee. Nathan, I am 
astonished at your innocence !” 


THE METKOPOLITES. 495 

“ The sin of ignorance is mine, I must confess. But I care 
for none of these questions.” 

“ Yes, you do, old fellow.” 

“ Nothing whatever with abstractions in the abstract.” 

“ But in the concrete, Nathan, with bright eyes to look 
upon your deeds ; not title deeds on parchment, but, in 
toumarnental parlance, your devoirs, lyric, achromatic, and 
calisthenic, with a small sprinkling of the Anacreontic.” 

“ Now your conversation becomes interesting, sensible, 
Mr. Parker, with logic in that last observation. But the in- 
duction is not perfect, not persuasive. I think you mentioned 
something about a patrician proclivity — a slight impediment, 
methinks, to a phhiscimusP 

“ Rather an acclivity, no doubt, in your case ; but not 
insurmountable. Credentials, in the Southern courts of 
Cupid, are not closely scanned until followed with proposals 
to treat. Establish a friendly footing on the first mission : 
easily accomplished : your impudence is wonderful. Ulterior 
propositions we need not discuss. Diplomacy does not deal 
with speculative questions.” 

“ It is the first step wherein lies the difficulty. How am I 
to gain a footing at all with this the Southern nobility ?” 

“Tliat depends upon whom you intend to bestow your 
sublime consideration. If it be the old gentlemen, your line 
of policy is simple. Listen respectfully to their political dog- 
mas, and, without understanding a word, follow the illustri- 
ous example of Major Way wode — always coincide in opinion 
with everybody, and your popularity is certain. But if your 
intentions be hymeneal, with an eye to the beaxitiful and a 
heart ever open to Pactolean persuasives, then look out for 
the dusky ministering ayahs.” 

“ What ! Tlie black family-servants ? A novel mode for 


496 


THE METROPOLITES. 


me to adopt to ingratiate myself with respectable fami- 
lies.” 

“ Listen, my son, and learn wisdom. The sable Aunt-Sal- 
lies and shining charcoal-colored Dinahs regulate household 
matters. If in their suspicious opinion you should be want- 
ing- in the proper aristocratic air or pedigree, the door would 
he shut on your indignant face with as little ceremony as on 
the nose of a soul-driver or abolitionist. Let them suppose 
you not to be ‘ quality,’ and your hat will never hang on a 
peg of the inner hall. You can sleep then with the over- 
seer of the field-hands until you depart.” 

“ Must they be bribed ?” 

“ Bribe one of them ! You might as weU beseech a Com- 
mon-Council man or member of Assembly to be virtuous. 
The pride of family caste is too strong to be tempted. They 
know best with whom ‘ young missus ought for to ’sociate.’ 
With great scorn and contempt for ‘ common white folks,’ if 
they class you in that category, you may at once come home.” 

“ Give me, Mr. Parker, by all means, letters of introduc- 
tion, vdth proper credentials to them in due form. They seem 
to be friends of youi*s.” 

“Your own pretty baby face, green-glass breastpin, and su- 
perb wardrobe, wiU be sufficient recommendation. But woe 
unto you if they find you are the grand or great-grandson of a 
negro-driver, tavern-landlord, or country store-keeper. In 
that event your cards would never reach ‘ young missus,’ nor 
your many calls be reported. Don’t fall into’*the common 
error in believing the blacks are the subjected race in the 
South. The whites have been conquered long ago, like so 
many India Nabobs and Begums shut up helpless for life, de- 
pendent on the lazy caprice of their, colored people for every 
bit of comfort or even local infornuxtion.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


497 

“ What valuable discoveries you have made where so much 
has been said and written. WTien is it the intention of the 
American Herodotus to publish? Perhaps the world has 
been equally misinformed about the pretensions to rank of. 
those celebrated ‘ first families’ in the planting States.” 

“ When you speak of their ‘ pretensions,’ Nathan, you are in 
the twiliglit of ignorance. They never made pretensions to a 
distinguished anc-estry. To be of a first family is sufficient. 
For what they have been they leave you to consult modern 
books. For their English lineage you can turn to Debrett, 
and trace it back to the coming in with the Conqueror. Their 
family records are full of old letters, which would be invalu- 
able in disclosing the secret springs of British history. Their 
portrait galleries have many courtiers and courtly dames 
who figured in the drawing-rooms and councils of the banish- 
ed or decapitated Stuarts. Their crests upon their plate 
and other valuables, are still worn with many proud coronets 
over the water, by even younger branches of their houses. 
Sometimes agents for a doimant peerage, or in search for the 
true heir in entail to an old estate, come here to ransack thase 
musty repositories where repose important facts about the 
past. But our chivalry deems itself iibove foreign titles, and 
too independent to disturb their imknown namesakes in 
quiet possession of lands. They to dispossess some gentle 
people of traditional distinction at home from their old halls 
or manors, on the testimony of time-worn documents and 
tombstones ! It is not honorable, it is not nght, but cruel ; 
no gentleman would be guilty of such conduct, and there is 
the end of it. At last Parliament, by an enactment some- 
thing in the nature of a statute of limitations, has had to 
interpose and give legal ownership after a generation passing 
without a claim made by these republican cousins.” 


498 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ What do you think, yourself, my most noble Griffith, of 
such self-denying doctrines ?” 

“ I must confess, Nathan, this is running their principles 
into the tellurian humus with a pretty deep Artesian dip. Our 
metropolitans of the blue blood would take a more practical 
and profitable view of their domestic duties in such cases to 
grab all they could get.” 

“ Their free and easy habits and customs, their aversion to 
social restraints, may account in part for this indifference.” 

“ Free and easy habits and customs among Southern patri- 
cians ! Why, Trenk, of what are you dreaming ? Their 
habits and customs are of the Sir Roger de Coverley period ; 
their etiquette is stiff and starched, done up in shirt-frills, po- 
made and powder, tied in a queue with a black ribbon, in tight 
breeches, knee-buckles, long stockings, and shoes. Bless your 
infiint prattle, how prettily you do talk about their free and 
easy way of doing things'! Did you expect them to swagger 
and slap you on the shoulder ? You must have been reading 
some English traveller’s account, taken from actual observa- 
tion on a Mississippi -flat-boat, where he had the advantage 
of an introduction to the family circle.” 

“ What choice library would you recommend, Mr. Parker, 
for my instruction.” 

“ Your whole duty of man will be found in Lord Chester- 
field’s Letters to his Son, Addison’s Essays, Sir Charles 
Grandison, or a pocket edition of all Richardson’s novels for 
easy reference in emergencies. But stick to Sir Charles ; that 
will teach you how to deflect your spinal column with dignity. 
But don’t forget to take Morton and the Tuscan or Tuscarora 
grape made into choice cognac. They will fraternize with 
the young patres conscripti able to bend the bow or elbow, 
and not yet quite up to Grandison and the gout. You will 


THE METROPOLITES. 


499 


of course put up at the Golden Fleece, the first hotel eveiy- 
where. The name will not he found with the mutton on the 
hill of fare ; hut look out for it in the figures on your hill of 
items.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

“ The sea, the sea, the open sea,” 

sang Morton Burk on a fine summer’s evening, as he and 
Nathan Trenk, on hoard the Theodolinda, were hound for 
Mullen’s Island. They were outside of Sandy Hook ; it was 
near the hour of sunset. 

And if storms should arise to wake the deep. 

What matter, what matter, we will try a httle more 
of the particular old fourth proof to keep one 
eye Open while the other ocuBr will sleep. 

We will drink and sleep. 

“ Nathan, thou musical zephyr, wliat thinkest of that emen- 
dation, both dithyramhic and lyric sweetness long drawn out — 
that superhuman effort of fine frenzy and loud larynx? Na- 
than, thou peripatetic accordeon, who, on a long pull of the 
thorax, art musical, when shut up still the same j speak, 
speak to me, Nathan, or may the gift of song leave thee for 
ever !” 

Not receiving a reply from his companion, again Mr. Burk 
broke out in deep basso : 

“ The winds, the winds, their revels keep. 


500 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“Now, my boy, I rather like that part of the atmospherical 
performance if their tipple be dozological. But I hope they 
will postpone ‘ a sound of revelry by night,’ while Theodo- 
linda is on the sea, for the yawning deep may display the 
jaws of death neither poetical nor pleasant on a close inspec- 
tion by stars or moonlight. Nathan, once more I beseech 
thee, when the winds are on a bender what may^ be their 
beverage ?” 

“ How should I know, not being a judge of liquors,” was 
Trenk’s answer, as he sat listless near the tiller, looking over 
the stern at the receding land. 

“It is a great defect in your education, Nathan. You wish 
to be ranked among the solid men ; I prefer the fluid. A 
lymphatic individual may be the one, an emphatic human 
must be the other ; an amphibilious animal is both. Man, 
according to the most scientific insectologist, is gravimen- 
ivorous and carmen-ivorous ; inclined to gravy with his solids, 
to grape-juice with a song ; which, being demonstrated, I 
will take a little brandy.” 

Mr. Burk having suited the action to the word and the 
brandy to his taste, ventilated his musical voice in continua- 
tion : — 

“ If storms should arise and awake the deep, 

What matter, we shall ride and sleep. 

We shall ride and sleep, 

Ride and . sleep. 

“ Rather an uncommon equestrian achievement, Mr. Trenk, 
on such a large animal; holding on, I suppose, to the Spanish 
main for safety ; the deep, no doubt, being a thoroughbred 
of Barbary, curried every morning with the comb of the sea; 
no limit to its speed or bottom on a stretch of Atlantic cable 
curb-chain. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


601 


“With the blue above and the blue below, 

And blue myself where the good liquors go.” 

Treiik sat motionless during this recitativo, watcliing the 
ijlouds on the horizon. But at last, amused at* some fun of 
Morton, he said : 

“ It is certain melancholy will never mark you for her own.” 

“ I believe you, Nathan ; care and cognac divide the w orld. 
You know under which banner I enlist.” 

“ Then, my gallant knight of the green seal, you wdll never 
desert your colors.” 

“ But, my good fellow,” added Morton, “ I can always 
navigate. In proof of it, I will take an observation on the 
binnacle. By Jove, come here !” he exclaimed, gazing at the 
compass. “ You are running due west, and wdll some time 
in the night pitch into the Jarseys. Hold her off shore and 
save a sea-bath at Barnegat.” 

Nathan rose to look at the instrument for a moment, then 
gave a glance at the bank of clouds where the sun had just 
gone dowm. Resuming his seat, with a smile he remarked : 

“ If we are running west the sun is setting near the north, 
which is a slight astrological mistake in that lummary. How 
do you account for it ?” 

“ The instrument is out of order, and ’we wdll not be able 
to make a land-fall on' Mullen’s Island.” 

“ I know the variations,” Trenk remarked, “ but ordered 
the compass to be adjusted some time ago. It was neglected 
by the master. Be comforted, however, we are on om* pro- 
per course for the Golden Fleece.” 

“Your thoughts may be wool-gathering, Nathan. This 
heading may bring us to a fleece of Merino or Cotswold on 
the prairies. But I supposed you were bound south to a 
woolly region of another color.” 


5U2 


THE METROPOLITES. 


No answer followed; both sat silent in that dreamy lassi 
tude which sometimes comes over us at sea. Morton found 
solace in his glass of liquor, Nathan occupied himself with 
inspecting distant objects. Rational conversation seemed 
exhausted. A favorable breeze was filling their sails, while 
soothing the young gentlemen witli its refreshing coolness* 
Burk felt its inspiriting influence, which prompted him to 
dispel the monotony with sometliing more stirring. 

“ Mr. Nathan Trenk,” said he at last, “please let us have 
the light of your countenance, the light of other days, and 
the language of your lips to assure lis you are in the land of 
the living. Up with the portcullis of your fancy, and down 
with the drawbridge of your cogitations to admit us into 
the castle of your genius. Beneath the covered archway let 
us reach your quadrangular court-yard. Having thus thrown 
ourselves upon your generous hospitality, vouchsafe to con- 
fabulate. What, no response ! thou responsive swell to be 
seen at all hours on Broadway, with diminutive shirt-collar 
and invisible neck-tie, willing to smile at a pretty gaiter or 
with any gentleman in an oyster saloon 

“ Quite a fanciful sketch, Mr. Falstaff ; proceed. The rising 
stars are silent witness of your noble eflbrt ; they look down 
approvingly — that strain again.” 

Burk rose from his seat to kick the camp-stool down the 
hatchway. Tramping round in a circle, with an occasional tiip- 
ping of his heels together, he at last came to a sudden halt, 
and throwing himself into a stage-attitude of heroic tragedy, 
with right leg protruding, knee doubled, shoulders thrown 
back, and arms outstretched, burst forth : 

“ What, ho ! Warder upon the watch-tower, look beyond 
the moat to tell me what bodes that shrill blast of bugle- 
note ! Haste to the battlement and look forth. ’Tis Don 


THE METROPOLITES. 


603 


Alonzo bids thee. Ha, ha, who upon yonder plain is kick- 
ing up the dust and comes this way ? ’Tis that false traitor, 
Gaspar de Baltezar, with a knightly train and imperial 
Princess, Mariana, on white palfrey by his side. Ha I that 
shrill war-blast again, the loud tramping of men-at-arms, the 
bright gleaming of burnished armor ! Tell me not it is the 
express line of cars, with Drummond-light in double convex 
reflector. Foul coward, thou liest in thy craven throat ! Dou- 
ble the watch upon the highest keep, close the postern, put 
out the pigs, call the knaves from the buttery, and within 
butt’s-length cover the bow-men at the butrass near the 
outer barbican. What, ho ! stolid churl ; look westward to 
the beacon signal, the lurid smoke upon the beetling head- 
land, which portends a host advancing. Now comes the tug 
of war; the battle is toward. By my halidom. Sir Warder, 
I will cleave thy matted skull from crown to chine if thou 
mutter aught of steam-tug with oyster-boat in tow. Tug me 
no steam-tug, or by St. Hubert I will be a Thug to purge 
thee of thy sins quickly in purgatory, an’ thou hadst as 
many lives as Plutarch. 

“ Thrice have I sought that dastard knight in fouten field 
and thrice has he escaped me. On the plains of Ascalon, 
where Baldwin, our king, gave a joyous tournament in honor 
of his high emprise, I met him, d Voutrance^ in the lists. 
Horse and rider went down before my battle-axe, when he 
sounded a parley and sent a herald to ask me what was the 
price of putty. 

“ Again when the walls were won, when the pious chivalry 
rushed in, pell-mell, to make captives and converts of pretty 
maidens, the scream of outraged innocence struck upon my 
ear. A lovely woman swooned in his rude, stalwart, riiftian 
arms; I haste me to wield the ponderous mace in rescue ; 


501 


THE METROPOLITES. 


blit, ere it fell, the beauteous infidel oped her smiling. Orient 
orbs, dazzling as the resplendent gems upon her fingers, 
which she waved in air, with thumb upon her nose. Thus an 
enchantress saved him, and she bade me seek her sister 
round the comer. 

“ Missives soon after came which impelled me homeward. 
Christendom had suffered a convulsion such as follows the 
ignoble gains of base commerce.” 

“ But, most puissant Don Alonzo, pardon me. Two en- 
counters only with your deadly foe have you narrated. In 
what crusade along the hard road of Jordan did you meet 
again ?” 

“Well spoken, worthy Trenkulo; by’r lady, you may 
swear by this bottle, the question is v eil put. We did not 
join om* banners thereafter at the Holy Places. My trusty 
squire reported a vacuum in the supply-pipe of the private 
exchequer. The missives aforesaid apprised me funds, like 
ftiends, were sparse. The wealthy house of Orleans sent no 
remittance, not a picayune, either morning, evening, or extra 
edition. The pious St. Louis suffered from heav}'^ failures in 
protracted prayer meetings. Cairo, not worth a mummy, 
had gone under in a heavy liquid-ation. At Memphis, the 
Ibis, feathering her nest with cotton, was caught on a sand- 
bar. The Delta had many mouths to feed. Cleopatra’s 
Needle could not mend matters, with some talk of a herring- 
bone, hem-stitch, back-acting, patent, double-trouble sewing 
macliine, to put in a new crop of Egyptian wheat. Calfor- 
nia, the wife of Julius Croesus, was almost in a state of re- 
pudiation. Tlie Jews of York refused to shell out a sequin, 
save with a collateral mortgage on Pharaoh’s linch-pins in the 
original Oriental TrarrsitJine. The bankers at Rome, with a 
safety-fimd, ceased to discount. Archimedes could not laise 


THE METROPOLITES. 


505 


a sack of salt at Syracuse. I, Don Alonzo, heart-broken and 
hard up, in the lurch at Aleppo in the Levant, hastily 
levanted. The noble family of the Medici — the apothecary 
l)iinces dealing in drugs, tonics,- and other toothless gums — 
having on their crest three bilious, golden balls with legend, 
‘ Two to One I take All,’ came like an uncle to ray relief. 
Wandeiing homeward, I took a turn with Tancred, taught 
a* new dodge to the old Doge, with some private lessons on a 
peculiar wrinkle to the free-and-easies along, the Rhine.” 

“ Hold, Don Alonzo, while we admire the spread of intelli- 
gence by the pious soldiers of the cross.” 

“ Take your time, worthy Trenkulo ; but I hasten on as 
belted knight to the gentle passage of arms holden at Bains 
a la Douche, in IN^ormandy. There Gaspar de Baltezar dis- 
played his shield in defiance against all comers. Our lances 
were shivered to splinters. Wheeling on his war-horse, he 
raised his vizor and voice, exclaiming — Why, Don Alonzo, 
how are you ? Bless my soul, I know the family ; how’s your 
mother ? What is your private opinion of rats ?’’ 

‘‘Very civil in him, Don Alonzo ; a speech neat and appro- 
priate ; you told him, of course.” 

“ Enraged at his insolence, I quit the lists in a big dis- 
gust.” Again the tramp of the circle was resumed, and the 
interesting tragedian merged into a fanciful manager, as he 
paused to address an imaginary audience in the most ap- 
proved foot-light style of politeness. “ Ladies and gentlemen ! 
the performance is closed for this evening, with many thanks 
for your munificent patronage to our humble efforts in re- 
>jtoring the legitimate drama to its pristine purity and present 
remunerating success. Oii to-morrow evening we will have 
the honor to present to you a new attraction on the French 
horn and Kent bugle, in a young man whose modesty com- 

22 


506 


THE METROPOLITES. 


pels him to lisp and to put the tips of his lingei-s to his upper 
lip, with a slight, hectic cough of genuine conceit, caught in 
a warm concert-room from the too close juxtaposition to the 
breath of some enthusiastic young ladies. 

“ His name, is Nathan Trenk, unrivalled on instruments of 
wind, string, Strakosch, or steam-power, with brass, mental 
physical and musical, silver keys and cat-gut. He sings a 
tolerable song when mirrors are excluded from self-admij a- 
tion. His ‘ Pussy Cat in the Cream Jug,’ is a milk-and-honey 
canan-ary bird vocalization. ‘My darling Patent-Leathers,’ 
peculiarly excruciating ; but ‘ Tie up my toe, mee aine dear 
Mamie,’ takes the rag off the bush. 

“Young misses are not admitted without their mammas, 
and married ladies only with their liege lords, in consequence' 
of the camphene, kerosene, crinoline inflammability from the 
combustion of a bursting moss rose-bud, which he will rashly 
wear in the voluptuous buttonhole of his festive, dove- 
colored dress-coat. Box office open at daylight till break- 
fast, after which hour choice tickets can be had in the city 
conservatories at a small advance of four hundred per cent. 
Two bows to the right, two bows to the left, ditto to the 
boxes, double to the big fiddle ; one grin generally, philan- 
thropically, picking up the bouquets, and exit.” 

Hereupon Don Alonzo disappeared beneath the hatch- 
way. 

With fast sailing, in a few days they reached the inlet 
leading up to the island of their destination. A favorable 
wind wafted them over the bar to placid waters, where, after 
rounding to, the anchor cast, gun fired, and sails clewed up, 
they went on shore. 

It was only a short time after their arrival they were sur- 
rounded by numerous old friends, and many more of newly 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


507 


made acquaintance. Some they had met at Newport and 
Sharon, others in attendance in the Supreme Court at Wash- 
ington, and a few had seen the old Lady Dowager’s mansion 
on her evenings of general reception. The novel phenomenon 
of a sensation at a Southern watering-place was witnessed, 
when it was known these young gentlemen were the sub- 
limated cream pf metropolitan society, choice extracts of 
its wealth, fashion, aristocracy, distinction, and exclusive- 
ness. 

Morton soon took charge of the youths, conducting them 
on board the Theodolinda, to spread before them at morn, 
noon, at eve and night, fl agrant cigars and other temptations 
such as are tasted only at the most sumptuous entertain- 
ments. Nathan, on the other hand, passed the time in morn- 
ing lounges with the gentlemen in delightful conversation : at 
dinner parties, where he sometimes favored them with his 
seductive songs, and in the evenings with the ladies. When 
these ceased to' be excitements, he made excursions to the 
yacht for them, where, assisted by Morton, all the appliances 
of art, luxury, and accomplishments, were added to please 
and fascinate. 

Weeks had thus been passed in ever-diversified scenes of 
enjoyment before Nathan was satisfied with their daily 
occurrence. Satiated at last, he was content to find some 
relaxation and repose in comparative solitude. One evening 
he stole away to muse alone on the cool veranda. It was 
yet an early hour, the sky brilliant with stars and the sum- 
mer moon. A venerable lady followed soon after, to look for 
her servant-man in waiting to escort her to her cottage near 
at hand. But the slave Avas not to be found. Regretting 
his absence, she was about returning in-doors, when Trenk 
offered his services to see her to her home. Thanking him 


508 


THE METROPOLITES. 


most graciously for bis kindness, she called her beautiful 
niece, a maiden yet in her teens, and they walked forth. 

These friends of Nathan need description. The old lady 
had never been married. Her niece was lier brother’s child, 
now an orphan from the loss of both her parents in her in- 
fancy. They were of tlie Strafford family, wealthy and patri- 
cian planters, rich in lands and slaves. The two maiden 
aunts, guardians of Francesca, were almost recluse from the 
world, but gentle, affectionate, and refined in their manners, 
devoted to the most rigorous works of benevolence and reli- 
gion, until their health became impaired under the too stnct 
observance of their ascetic duties. The child grew up with- 
out forming any congenial acquaintances, with a pious educa- 
tion, and her memory crammed with psalms, prayer-books, 
catechisms, and chapters of Scripture, so that once reading 
any task sufficed to remember it verbally for ever. As she 
grew older the parish rector, a learned but eccentric scholar, 
taught her the rudiments of the ancient classics. 

The increasing physical infirmities of the aunts precluded 
their close attention to her studies, while she was- permitted 
in consequence to pursue a desultory course of self-instruction 
Avithout their assistance. Timid, modest, retiring, and taught 
to shim company, at twelve years of age Francesca had no 
resource for her active, acute mind but in reading. But she 
read only to occupy her time, not for improvement ; she never 
thought of that. The old family library was voluminous 
though antiquated, consisting of theology and church history, 
the ancient classic^, some modern authors, Shakspeare, Mil- 
ton, Bacon, Doctor Johnson, Pope, Addison, Hallam and 
Rollin, with a few stray moral morphine novels of the last 
c*entury. To these might be added the ponderous American 
Archives, with oUut tomes of choice political publications. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


509 


It can be well imagined how dreary to a young ardent 
mind must these standard works appear. But she read on, 
read everything, beheving them the best authors extant, 
while blaming her owm dulness in not enjoying their excel- 
lence. Her well-trained memory retained all she read ; the 
language of the writers became her own, until her ideas and 
words were somewhat quaint but classic, with a singular 
purity and elegance of diction, with great originality and 
strength of thouglit. But the library afforded her no pleasure. 
She had no sympathy with the master minds with which it 
was peopled. Something was wanting — and in grief, m de- 
spair, she deplored her intellectual weakness ; for the poor 
child liad yet to learn the defect was not hers. 

The conversation of those who visited her relatives was not 
more cheering, and yet her aunts seemed to be pleased with 
their company. Here again was another source of vexation 
to the orphan girl. Kegretting she was not contented and 
gifted in talents as her good guardians, Francesca endeavored 
to discover why she was unlike other people, why she did not 
feel as they felt, why she did not enjoy their enjoyments. 
But it was in vain ; she sat demurely at the side of her aunts, 
saying little, in mucli self-reproach, weary with herself and 
the whole world. It was a pleasure for her to slip away on a 
saddle-horse alone, and, when unseen, to ride furiously over 
fields, fallen logs, and fences, through ditches and open 
woodlands, to find exhilaration in the wild excitement ; and 
then return quietly, unnoticed, to the secluded sitting-room to 
spend a silent evening. 

Suitors came at last 5 one. Said to be promised in her cia« 
die, whose name was Pericles Jones. Their families were re- 
lated ; they had known each other since infancy. But this 
modern Pericles interested her no more than his Athenian 


•510 


THE METROPOLITES. 


narnesiike in the library. Master Perry, as the servants on 
the plantation called him, was fond of dogs, horses, and guns, 
of which he talked too much even in the. presence of Fran- 
cesca. He knew he was destined to marry her, and rather 
thought well of the arrangement, as he was slightly in love 
with the pretty girl. 

But when summoned to the parlor to meet him, Francesca 
inwardly groaned at the infliction, preferring her aunts in the 
silent sitting-room. She had, however, to obey ; propriety re- 
quired her to act as became a gentlewoman ; therefore she 
received him, listened to his talk, entertained him in a befit- 
ting manner as due to a visitor, but rejoiced when he took 
his departure. She knew she did not dislike Perry, for that 
would have been sinful ; yet she was indiflferent to his society. 
Wherefore, she did not know ; but it was, no doubt, because 
she was not as other aud better people. 

The orbit of Master Perry’s revolutions round the cen- 
tre of his attraction seemed at last to diminish, and his peri- 
odical returns to become more frequent. This was a grievous 
trial to the patience of Francesca ; but it had to be borne 
as all things else disagreeable in this world of affliction. 
Once, however, when she was about taking her usual equestii- 
an flight, he made his appearance. There was no help for it ; 
the ride had to be given up. She went to receive him in the 
parlor where he was seated, his hat being placed on the cen- 
tre-table. 

With his usual twaddle on local topics he consumed an hour, 
and was then drawing near to a more tender theme,' when 
some spirit akin to that which possessed her on horseback 
was awakened. For a moment her modest, shrinking timidity 
was gone. She sprang from her chair to hastily take up his 
hat, as ladies usually manipulate that article, or as man takes 


THE METROPOLITES. 


611 


liold of a bonnet. Putting it on his head, and pushing down 
the crown, she exclaimed : “ Perry, you are tedious, over- 
much ; you do not .converse prettily — at least, such is my 
opinion. When you depart, do not return on my account ; 
and as you have your hat on, I will not trouble you to re- 
move it before going.” Patting the hat on his head with 
her hand : “ There, now, that will do ; with many remem- 

brances to your mamma.” 

Master Perry went off at a tangent in sad tribulation to 
tell everybody how he had been “flung over” by that queer 
gill. 

Another came, much the senior of Master Perry, but purse- 
proud and stupid company for a young lady of her wit. His 
topics of conversation ran in the bucolic measure, about the 
number of bales of cotton made by his neighbors to each 
field-hand, and the bushels of corn to the acre, with compara- 
tive statements of the relative value of horses, mules, and 
oxen. He was not averse to the sale of a fine negr», if a 
good price were given, and could expatiate on the requisite 
qualities in an excellent overseer of slaves. Poor Francesca 
was in despair with his visits, until the servants in the kitchen, 
some twenty or more, apprehensive his attentions were too 
marked, soon foiled his purpose by the usual Ethiopian tac- 
tics, which left him in doubt whether they alone were respon- 
sible for much disrespectful treatment. 

The ladies were now at their siunmer cottage on the sea- 
shore, where Francesca was nearly as secluded as at her 
plantation home, without even the favorite horses for her 
daih' exercise. The infirmities of her aunts increasing, sel- 
dom permitted them to go abroad except for a few moments 
in the twilight. They did not desire Francesca to join in the 
dance, and therefore she was seldom seen in the ball-room. 


612 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


She was in another part of the building when her aunt accept- 
ed the polite offer of Mr. Trenk. 

“ I am afraid, sir,” said the venerable lady, “ we are de- 
priving you of a fascinating pleasure in takrig you away from 
this gay scene.” 

“ A Avalk, madam, on such a lovely eve as this is prefer- 
able to a crowded hall. Dissipation sometimes loses its charm, 
even as books or other study when perused without relaxa- 
tion.” 

“ Perhaps you are not fond of literature ?” 

“ Pcirdon me, madam, I am something of a plodding book- 
worm, when in the mood ; but it is only by mixing much in 
the world I learn to appreciate books.” 

“ A life of a recluse, with plenty to read, must be delight- 
ful.” 

“ Yes, madam, I agree with you, it is delightful when tired 
of the external world.” 

“ Young people who have never been from home will read. 
W ould you put an interdict on their inclinations ?” 

“ N’ot if they desired to read.” 

They had now reached the cottage, when the aunt enter- 
ing, Francesca and Nathan seated themselves on the veranda 
to enjoy the cool breeze from the water. This was an unex- 
pected good fortune for him thus to be left alone for a plea- 
sant hour with one whom heretofore on a slight acquaintance 
he had thought beautiful. But her slirinking deportment 
caused him for the most part to lose sight of her, to exchange 
only the common salutations when meeting. 

This evening, however, he observed her Avith more scru- 
tiny. She was tall, well formed, with delicate Grecian fea- 
tures, clear complexion, dark hazel eyes, and raven-black 
hair. But it was in the quiet innocence and purity of her 


THE METROPOLITES. 


613 


heart, which every intellectual lineament of her blushing 
countenance portrayed, that was her greatest fascination. 
Her mouth and teeth were lovely ; but, above all, her smile, 
once Avitnessed, was joyous in the play of her features, inde- 
scribably attractive and pleasing. 

Francesca, to his surprise, was the fii'St to resume the con- 
versation. “ You left my aunt under the impression you 
were not an advocate for much reading. Is it not profita- 
ble ?” 

“That depends upon Avhat is read, and the purpose.” 

“It is somewhat unusual to hear books spoken of in dis- 
paragement.” 

“ They must be used sparingly, properly, knowingly, or 
else they are not beneficial, especially to the young.” 

“ How strange ! Such opinions from you who, they say, 
have read everything !” 

“ Thank you, fair lady ; you are very kind. But let me 
assure you I have not self-inflicted such a calamity. Too 
many books take the marrow from the brain, to leave only 
dulness behind.” 

The lady was amused at this novel thought, when he 
hastily added : “ Do not smile at the observation, for it 
is true. Homer sometimes nods, Shakspeare now and then 
is drowsy, and a famous English historian has insinuated 
that Paradise Lost will put you to sleep. In the name of 
Morpheus, how then can they at all times be improving ? I 
speak knowingly, having read them. Study them, and you 
Avill agree with me.” 

“ Although you are jesting, sir, I must assure you I have 
read them over and over again.” 

“ Why read them more than once ?” 

“ I had nothing but old authors at my command.” 

22 * 


514 :' 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“Then, my fair lady, you can confirm the justice of my 
criticism.” 

“ I wish I knew if you speak seriously, for I am confused 
in hearing such an opinion, at variance with all I have here- 
tofore been taught.” 

“ Taught by others, no doubt ; not your own judgment 
surely. Turn over a new leaf in life’s experience where 
you may learn a new lesson. Few, very few, resort to old 
authors for amusement. Therefore they all read slowly, 
sparingly, without any apprehensions of punishment for lite- 
rary dissipation. They are read with a different object in 
view. It is no laughing matter, we all know.” 

If Francesca .was surprised and delighted with him, he 
was no less with her ingenuous frankness and appreciative 
discrimination. Time went by on rapid wing, as they con- 
versed, heedless of its flight : both charmed with each other 
in the interchange of thoughts and emotions such as neither 
had before experienced. 

That night Nathan went on board the yacht, but he did 
not soon retire to rest. He found Morton alone on deck 
with his German pipe to assist his meditations. Trenk 
ordered some Burgundy pimch, and, while lounging on a coil 
of rope, told Morton of Francesca. The pleasing picture 
was not overdrawn ; but it was too life-like to escape Burk’s 
perception of the beautiful in mind, in heart, and form. To 
him the description was a choice specimen of Nathan’s en- 
trancing eloquence. He desired an opportunity to know 
more intimately the divinity of its inspiration 


THE METROPOLITES. 


515 


CHAPTER XLI. 

However charmed Mr. Trenk may have found himself 
for several weeks with Francesca ; however much amused 
and delighted she may have been with the humor and kind- 
ness as well as the other good traits of Mr. Burk ; still a 
cliange in the tide of events put a sudden check upon their 
felicity. When Francesca was most fond of the society of 
Nathan, and was with him for hours each daj', and when he 
seemed to he only happy and contented at her side, some 
news came to him from New York to disturb the equani- 
mity of his mind as well as to control his future move- 
ments. 

When he quitted the city his business speculations were in 
a prosperous condition ; no cloud upon the financial horizon 
indicative of a coming storm. Never were bankers more 
sanguine of the future or less uneasy about the present. At 
the largest institution a day had passed without any one 
soliciting a loan, an event unparalleled in commercial annals. 
But now rumors came fast and thick which foretold a fearful 
change — a change fraught with tempests and ruin to many. 
Unprepared for such a calamity, Nathan hastened home. He 
returned only to find his worst anticipations fully realized. 

The dreams of fabulous wealth that had floated through his 
disturbed mind when brooding over his harsh treatment by 
his fashionable lady friends, he had endeavored to coin into 
dollars by some speculative combinations on the stock ex- 
change. The attempt would have been a folly in the most 
propitious times ; but now it was, as the event proved, mad- 
ness. He was met with a demand for an instant payment 
for heavy advances on securities, or, as an alternative, their 


516 


THE METROPOLITES. 


immediate sacrifice in a market which was rapidly falling 
and spreading disaster among thousands. 

When appealing to wealthy friends to aid him in his need, 
he found them unhappily in the same dilemma. On whatso- 
ever side he turned for relief, he met persons in the same pur- 
suit, who, unsuccessful as himself, were only adding fuel to the 
flame of excitement to feed the panic which had seized upon 
all. Desperate and goaded to frenzy by the ruin menacing 
him if unable to redeem his securities held by bankers, he 
was willing to resort to almost any expedient to obtain 
relief Yet he was amazed at himself in finding how his 
principles of honor and honesty had relaxed under the 
intense pressure for self-preservation. 

It was not long before his evil genius tempted him in the 
most enticing form. When he recalled to mind all of his 
acquaintance who might have funds at their disposal, he had, 
somehow, overlooked his idle, careless, and somewhat pious 
friend, Seiior Sabina. Who more likely than he to have 
money in bank ? Who less addicted to speculations of all 
kinds ? Who would be more willing to come to his aid, pro- 
vided, always, he was not ultimately to lose by the opera- 
tion ? 

Nathan lost no time in seeking Sabina, while reproaching 
himself for so many weeks lost already in forgetting he had 
such a friend in reserve. But while approaching the rooms 
of Don Nicolas, much trepidation was in the nerves of 
Trenk, with some rising of a phlegm in his throat, with sick- 
ening apprehension that he, too, in his selfishness, might 
refuse his assistance. But he was not at home. He had 
gone with his aunt and Mrs. Chilton to attend a midday 
prayer meeting held at noon in the spacious basement floor 
of a Wall street bank. This religious gathering had been 


THE METROPOLITES. 


617 


“ inaugurated” under the auspices of the Reverend Mr. Mel- 
lowtone and Doctor Brimson, to be highly instrumental in 
opening the eyes of many sinners to the error of their ways 
since they had lost their money. An ex-official of the Stock 
Board gave out the Psalms ; an auctioneer, forgetful of nota- 
rial protests, read calmly chapters of Scripture ; and a street- 
broker held forth in exhortation with as much eloquence as 
formerly when in his late emplojunenf on the kerbst one. 

Again ISTathan called at an earlier hour, when Sabina was 
fortunately found and apparently well pleased with his visit. 
When Nathan stated the embarrassed condition of his affairs, 
entering into a minute detail of the transactions, Sabina 
seemed, much to his surprise, to comprehend fully the diffi- 
culties with which he was beset. 

Don Nicolas was equally frank. He admitted he was in 
funds from his recent sales of property preparatory to closing 
all his business in this country. He had disposed of much 
of his estate in the city, and wished he were rid of all of it. 
But he did not now desire to enter into any new transactions. 
Yet he could not refuse to assist Mr. Trenk. But while he 
looked for no profit to be made out of the affair, it vrould 
only be entered into on the most positive certainty that 
neither risk nor trouble would come of it. What, therefore, 
had Nathan to propose ? 

To this inquiry, Trenk suggested he would place in his 
hands some securities in corporation bonds that he held, and 
ample to cover any loan made. Sabina, however, doubted 
whether they would not suffer depreciation in the general 
crash, and eventually prove worthless. Nathan was now at 
a loss for other means to satisfy Sabina’s timidity, while it 
seemed he was willing most generously to aid without any 
profit to himself. In truth, these forty thousand dollars of 


518 


THE METROPOLITES. 


corporation bonds belonged to Dace and Pactolus, which N^a- 
than was thus temporarily using to help him over the pres- 
sure in the financial panic. All would come right, no doubt, 
in a couple of months, and therefore he was willing to take 
the responsibility. 

Sabina, however, had a suggestion to make. He had learn- 
ed from some quarter that Nathan had in his possession an 
old lease on his property, made many yea*i’S befoi*e to Mr. 
Gray. To be sure, a release was executed, and therefore the 
document was void ; still purchasers had heard of its exist- 
ence, and it aflfected the value of lots when sales were adver- 
tised. He wished, therefore, this old parchment destroyed 
or out of the way, as it was more of an annoyance to him 
than an encumbrance on the property. As he knew Mr. 
Trenk would oblige him in this small matter, he was willing 
to aid him in his troubles at present. Therefore Sabina pro- 
posed to- make him the loan for sixty days on the bonds, tvdth 
the understanding that if any loss were on them, and the loan 
not paid, Nathan should restore him the old lease, which 
rightfully ought to be cancelled. On these terms the business 
was closed. 

The momentary gleam of sunshine this temporary assist- 
ance afibrded to Nathan only served, however, to disclose 
the gloom pervading on all sides. In a few days he disco- 
vered his disasters were on the increase, and that Sabina’s aid 
had not averted the hand of fate. Unless came soon a change 
for the better, he would neither be able to repay Sabina’s 
loan nor replace the bonds used of Pactolus and Dace. He 
must give up the old lease of Mr. Gray. A sudden thought 
of hon-or struck him. He paused, with a pang at his heart 
which choked his breathing, while the cold sweat stood on 
his forehead. Merciful heaven ! could it be possible the old 


THE METROPOLITES. 


519 


parcliment lease for ninety-nine years was a valid, subsisting 
estate in the property ? Could he have fallen into a snare set 
for him by that simpleton, Sabina ? He, Nathan Trenk, to 
cheat the orphan ! Above all, to defraud the lovely, unfortu- 
nate Emma Gray ! A half hour of intense bitter thought 
demonstrated to his acute business perceptions that Sabina 
had but one object in his seeming generosity — the possession 
of a valid deed. For, if it were invalid, why not show it, 
why not prove it, why not record the release and have it set 
aside ? 

In the complication of difficulties, now tinged with coming 
crime, if not already consummated, Nathan lost all command 
over the heretofore clear exercise of his reasoning faculties. 
For the basis of all right reason is truth, and now guilt had 
' ent('red his mind, which is at eternal enmity with truth. No 
wonder he could not counsel himself how to act, for to the 
guilty that is impossible in the very nature of our intellectual 
organization. Ruin, dishonor, and infamy, were before him ; 
but nowhere had he a friend to advise him. No client had 
ever entered his office more helpless. 

In the few short weeks still intervening before the sixty 
days would expire, Trenk could not discern any source 
whence relief was to come. Indeed he ceased to hope, re- 
signing himself, without any further efforts, to despair. Dace 
and Pactolus were at Newport. If they were in the city 
they might demand their bonds. He therefore did not Avish 
to see them, so that the evil day of reckoning might be post- 
poned. Incapable of sleeping, destitute of appetite, and with- 
out the energy to take his usual exercise, he shut himself up 
in his rooms, to exclude light, air, and even the face of fel- 
low-creatures. Each day the papers published some new and 
appalling failures in commercial circles, and he did not desire 


520 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


to proclaim his own misfortunes. They would be known soon 
enough. When he did venture forth, it was only at unusual 
hours, in unfrequented places where no one was to be seen. 
In one of these, however, he accidentally encountered Charles 
bTevil. But Nathan, with a guilty conscience, imagined he 
knew of his infamy and his losses, and therefore hurried on, 
even avoiding the same side of the street. What misery 
would have been spared to him, had he not averted his hag- 
gard countenance. Had he but spoken, Charles Nevil jvould 
have proved himself the friend he needed. But guilt had 
made him a coward, to steal away to hide his dishonor. 

lie had solicited the aid of Mr. Nevil on his return ; but 
then Nevil was himself embari'assed. In a few days, how- 
ever, he had sold out at a sacrifice all his available securities, 
and with the proceeds commenced a system of financial tac- 
tics predicated on a general prostration of credit, which 
soon not only retrieved his losses but doubled his wealth. 
Thus had the improper means to which Nathan resorted only 
deprived him of the sense of conscious rectitude that wmuld 
have enabled him to face and find an all-powerful friend in 
Nevil. Fate, however, had otherwise decreed it ; and Trenk 
retui-ned to his rooms, bereft of reason, to write, not know- 
ing what, to Dace and Pactolus, and to forget it when the 
letters were sent. 

In a few days Sabina would claim the performance of the 
agreement. Li a few days, therefore, Emma Gray, the help- 
less orphan, would be defrauded by this nefarious transaction. 
But now Trenk had lost all command over himself. His 
brain and veins were on fire with a liquid heat ; his mouth 
and tongue perpetually parched with a burning thirst that 
water did not assuage; he could not read, nor write, nor 
think; he discarded books, papers, and business. Neither 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


521 


notes nor letters were opened. He wished himself dead, but 
was afraid to destroy himself. He dreaded the pain of dying. 

A letter was received from Pactolus, but unnoticed. Its 
contents were found afterwards to be : 

“J/y Dear Sir : Sorry to hear you are hard up. Glad to 
learn you planted the bonds to fructify in the hands of Sabi- 
na. But if this be their seed-time, harvest will come in the 
next century. It is some comfort to learn you could use them, 
for they are down to nothing ; not worth a continental — mill- 
pond. I send you enclosed a check on the Trust Compa,ny, 
which you can fill up with the proper figure to suit your 
grief. Some thirty thousand are therein unto me appertain- 
ing, put in by an old uncle for safe keeping. Double the 
amount if you can. I see they have prayer meetings in Wall 
street, which have lowered Centrals and Erie. But Celestials 
are up, with a further rise expected, being of the new air- 
line. Take care Sabina is not in a corner with Brimstone, 
running the heavenlies to the highest figure to sell out. 
When the Don can read his title clear, he will make some 
money from the parchment. He don’t go to preaching for 
the fun of the thing. His New Jerusalem has golden streets, 
where the angel he wants must have plenty of precious 
jewels to watch his slumbers. Buy a few fifty-shares of the 
common fancy stocks, and double on the ‘ Old Hundred ’ 
with Mellowtone. Pray unto the Lord, and keep a stiff 
bank account. And, if I should die before I wake, I remain 
in rectified spirits, yours, etc.” 

Another came from Harry Dace, as follows : 


^’‘Dear Trenh: I think you had better -sell my U. S. stock, 


522 


THE METROPOLITES. 


say at 115, and take the proceeds for yonr own use, or ope- 
rate on joint account. N’ot having touched the tiger, I am in 
fur. I hold a good many first mortgages, and they want me 
to take hack the property for the amount on their face. S'lire 
to do it unless you advise not. Never mind the bonds you 
wi'ite about. If you are dead-broke I will set you on your 
pins again.” 

Other friends could neither be seen nor written to. Soon 
after their return from the South, Morton Burk had gone to 
Sharon with the Lady Dowager. Walter Parker was also 
out of town for the summer. But at the time when Nathan’s 
misfortunes were culminating, Morton came back to the city 
without calling to see him, for Morton had his own troubles, 
although not those of business or of financial speculations. 
His affection for Mary, the pretty Rose-Bud, was undimi- 
nished, while the course of his true love seemed to run without 
a ripple of uneasiness on its placid surface. But still disquiet 
Avas ben(*ath. The Rose-Bud had been thinking seriously of 
her position to him Avhile he was at the South. On his 
return, although kind and loving as ever, yet care and a me- 
lancholy sadness were depicted on her frank and heretofore 
contented countenance. 

She told him what had been the nature of her thoughts, 
and for him to reflect seriously whether it were not better 
for them to part, as she could perceive much unhappiness as 
Avell as injury to his prospects in life by the unfortunate 
attachment. This conduct in her, instead of abating his ardor 
for the beautiful and disinterested girl, only served to add 
new incentives to his passion. He therefore went reluctantly 
to Sharon, to return as quickly as he could be relieved from 
attendance on his aged relative. 


'HE METROPOLTTES. 


523 


III the meanwhile Sabina visited her frequently and had 
become in some way apprised of the cause of her grief. He 
exerted himself very assiduously to dispel her uneasiness, 
while manifesting the utmost friendship for Morton, assuring 
her it would all eventuate in their happiness without any 
cause on her part for making him and herself miserable with 
her romantic notions about duty and propriety. Let Morton 
consult his own welfare, he urged upon her, for he surely 
was more competent to decide on what was best for his own 
comfort and interest. The Rose-Bud was soothed with the 
arguments of Sabina, for they were on the same side with her 
heart in this important question. She began to entertain a 
more favorable opinion of Morton’s friend ; for in truth, hei’e- 
tofore, she had a slight repugnance to Sabina. lie was, there- 
fore, more frequently with her, his society affording some 
sort of consolation against her self-reproaches in solitude for 
liaving encouraged the attentions of her lover. 

Morton’s coming home from Sharon brought matters to a 
crisis. He hastened to see her as she sat alone on a midsum- 
mer’s night in her little back parlor. The Rose-Bud received 
him with all the affection and frankness in her kind disposi- 
tion. He was more madly in love with her as he perceived 
that grief had only heightened her enchanting loveliness. But 
when he spoke of his love and his wishes for their speedy 
nuptials, she shook her head in silent despair and agony of 
heart. 

“ No, no, Morton ; I am afraid it never can be.” 

“ Let me, Mary, think for you ; we will be ha])py.” 

“ Rather let me think for both, sir ; for in your great kind- 
ness for me you have forgotten yourself.” 

“ It is true, to see you happy would make me contented 
for life.” 


524 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ But could I be happy knowing how much you had sacri- 
ficed on my account ?” 

“ What would I lose, Mary ?” 

“ Fi'iends, society, position, and those many little cotnforts 
and attentions which at this time you possess. You do not 
su2>pose your acquaintances would visit you Vith me as your 
wife ?” 

“ What would I care for them, having you to love me and 
always with me ! Besides, it need not be known yet awhile 
that we are married.” 

“ That cannot be,” said she, mournfully. “ It would be 
practising a deception, and you know I never harbored deceit. * 
It would be a part impossible for me to act. I should fail 
and ruin all. But if not, you would cease to love me when , 
finding I could deceive any one.” 

“ Then let us live away from the world, to form new friend- | 
ships, with new objects and aims in life, in which we can be 
interested alike.” 

“ This sacrifice would be, Morton, more than you could ! 
make. You cannot abandon all for me; no one who loved', 
her husband would permit it. It is only to increase our hap- 
piness that people become united ; and why should I ask you 
to lose all, lose everything, to make me your wife ? We 
have been educated differently in our pleasures, and tastes, 
and manners. You have been accustomed to wealth, and 
fashion, and luxury ; but I know nothing of them. As your 
wife, under the most favorable circumstances, I am afraid that 
your poor Rose-Bud would soon fail to please you, and then 
she would droop and wither, to die young upon your bosom 
if you would grant her that last happiness in this world.” ; 
And here the innocent girl threw herself into the arms of her 
lover, sobbing as though her heart would break. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


525 


Mortoii clasped her to his soul while imprinting burning 
kisses on her lips. 

“ You must not talk so, my dear Mary. But it will never 
do to let my aunt, the old lady, know we are married.” 

“ Oh, Morton, would you treat her thus ? She has been 
kind and generous. Why, then, should you- deceive her ?” 

“ She has no right to interfere with my happiness. Be- 
sides, it is only her family pride that prompts her liberality, 
and not from any love for me.’’ 

“ ]^o matter what it is, dear, dear Morton. Still you have 
consented to her terms ; at least such is her understanding, 
and if you displease hei-, you not only do wrong but are 
ruined. She is entitled to your duty, to your respect, and 
some affection, being in the place of -a parent to you. No 
good can come of disobedience. My heart is breaking while 
I say so ; but as I am true to you, be true to her as a son. 
Only with her consent would I yield to your wishes, and as 
that is hopeless, let us talk no more of this. Will you not, 
Morton, please pity me and forgive me in my distress ?” 

“ Where is this to end, my Mary, my dear Rose-Bud ?” 

“ God only knows, Morton. I have often asked myself the 
same question. God only can tell. I put my trust in Him. 
I strive to do right, and submit the rest humbly to His will. 
Something whispers to me that we will never be united. 
Often I thought it would yet all be well ; but the dream was 
one of too much happiness for this w'orld ever to come true. 
The pleasure was too great to be realized. I doubted it, 
and now feel that it is too much for me to expect. This cer- 
tainty has made me miserable. I only hope and strive to 
make you more fortunate.” 

Burk could only press her to his heart, while her tears fell 
copiously on his bosom. 


526 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“Now go, Morton, will you? for you are distressed, and 
I feel for you and pity you. I do not wish you to forget me 
unless it must be for your happiness.” 

“ Never, never, Mary. You must be mine. For while this 
heart beats, and my lips can utter your name, I will love no 
other — no other but you, my own dear Mary.” 

He imprinted many kisses on her lips, cheeks, and fore- 
head before tearing himself away from her presence. For 
hours thereafter the generous girl ciuild feel the imprints of 
his caressing on her burning countenance. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

The Rose-Bud was inconsolable in the misery which she 
suffered, and also for that which in her sense of duty she in- 
flicted upon Morton. But she was not of a disposition to 
abandon herself to despair in her troubles. Other interests 
and other cares demanded attention. Her father was becom- 
ing more feeble and dependent upon her. His health was 
suffering for the want of air and exercise. Major Waywode 
was very kind to the old man, but Mary feared her parent 
had more bodily infirmity than was known. 

Sabina had often pressed Mary to take her father on an 
excursion down the bay in his yacht the Chula. Mary con- 
sented from time to time, but had not as yet gone, from acci- 
dental causes. Again he urged her to name a day when he 
could receive them on board, and she had appointed one 
which happened to be the next after her last painful interview 
with her unfortunate lover. However much she may now 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


527 


have wished to remain at home, she stifled the whisperings 
of her heart, in order to think only of her father, whose health 
might be benefited by a sail upon the water. 

Don Nicolas was prompt to come for them at noon in a 
carriage, when he drove them down to the Barclay street ferry, 
whence tiiey could cross the river to Hoboken, where the 
Clmla was at anchor. At the ferry Mary accepted his arm, 
while her father was in advance under the care of Waywode. 
In the crowd, however, Sabina manoeuvred to separate the 
Rose-Bud from her j)arent : for she was listless and inattentive 
to what was passing around her, trusting to Sabina to con- 
duct them safely. 

But on the river, when she perceived the absence of her com- 
pany, he calmed her anxiety with the assurance that by mis- 
take they had gone on another boat, which would detain them 
only for a few moments. Thus comforted, she arrived at Ho- 
boken, where a yawl belongmg to the yacht carried them on 
board. Without hesitation she sprang on deck, and was [)er- 
suaded to go below into the after-cabin to wait for her 
father’s arrival. 

Many beautiful objects were in the luxurious room to excite 
her attention, and it was only after her curiosity had some- 
what subsided she discovered the door was closed. She was 
alone, and a sense of fear came over her for an instant, as she 
turned to go on deck. But the door was locked : she was a 
prispner ; courage almost forsook her at the discovery. She 
could have screamed from terror, were she not aware no one 
was within the sound of her voice to assist her. Another 
door led into the forward apartment, but on trial it, too, was 
barred. Throwing aside a curtain, she beheld an obscure nar- 
row passage-way, at the end of which she seemed to recog- 
nise sitting on a bench a female figui’e. 


528 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ What is the meaning of this ?” cried Mary, bounding 
forward to the old woman, as if to find safety in her com- 
pany. “ What is the meaning of this ? Why have they lock- 
ed the doors ?” 

The woman thus accosted dropped her folded arms and 
gazed steadily in the face of the RoserBud without making 
any answer. Mary shrank back in horror from the hideous 
features of the object before her. Although emaciated al- 
most to a skeleton, a swollen expression was in her visage, 
especially about the eyes, which is produced by strong liquors. 
A cap partly concealed her coarse grey hairs that straggled 
down her wrinkled, bloated cheeks. She had in her white 
gums but one large, loose tooth, which she pressed to and fro 
with a finger of her shrivelled hand, as she rocked her body 
back and forward on the bench. 

Smothering her disgust, Mary rej^eated the question. But 
the hag neither noticed her words nor removed the fixed 
gaze upon her countenance. Satisfied at last with looking at 
the lovely features of the Rose-Bud, she pressed her tooth as 
she muttered : “I see how it is. Another crying baby for 
the voyage, and then no morO drink for me ; nothing but 
trouble, trouble with children.” 

“ But I am going on no voyage,” cried Mary, in her agony. 

“ Yes, but you are ; we have cut loose and are drifting 
down with the tide. Look out of the bull’s eye and see for 
yourself.” 

“ Oh, my God ! What will become of me ?” mmanured the 
innocent girl, leaning up against a bulkhead. 

“ Good times for a few months, while you serve him ; then 
comes the devil to take you as he has taken the others. I 
sold my soul to hell and gave my body to old Santa Lucia 
long before the boy was born. The devil and drink have me 


THE METROPOLITES. 529 

now for damnation, and will have you, too, or you will be 
dead and buried in the sea.” 

Speechless with horror at the revelation of such wickedness, 
Mary felt her knees sinking beneath her, and she staggered 
back to the cabin, to throw herself on a sofa with a sickening 
sensation of misery and almost madness. 

Soon after Sabina entered through a shifting panel, so as 
to be unseen until he stood before her. He took her hand 
gently in his, but she sprang from him as if touched by an 
adder. 

“ What means this outrage upon me !” she exclaimed, for- 
getful of her peril, in burning indignation at his audacity. 

“ Softly, softly, sweet Mary ; your anger is uncalled for. 
You wUl think better of me in time, when you find how much 
I have risked to possess you,” said he, with a sneer of triumph 
on his lip. “ I never tell my love when rivals are near. I 
prefer my own way of managing matters, which are generally 
successful.” 

“You dare not do me wrong !” 

“ Certainly no wrong, sweet one. Love, like time, sets all 
things even. You are now without a lover ; therefore take 
me.” 

“ Never, never ; sooner would I die than submit to such 
an insult !” 

“Take things gently, gently. A sea voyage will 0..011 
bring you to your senses.” 

“ Do you intend to carry me to sea by force against my 
will ?” she cried, with all her fears returning. 

“ No force in the business. The Chula is bound to the 
tropics, and you are on board j that’s all. You came right 
willingly.” 

“ I cannot believe you intend to ruin a poor girl like me. 

23 


630 


THE METROPOLITES. 


I know you are a gentleman who would not be guilty of 
such a crime. Remember I am a helpless, poor, and mo- 
therless orphan. I have to work hard for a living, and with 
my old father to support. You must pity me; but you can 
do me no harm. It would be too cruel — ” Sobbing vio- 
lently prevented further utterance of her thoughts. 

“ Mary, you know not what man will dare when he loves 
as passionately as I do. I would sacrifice heaven and earth 
to accomplish my purpose. I have no fear when love impels 
me on. I love you to madness, and nothing can be too rash 
for me to attempt or too criminal for me to execute. You 
may know the worst at once, and prepare to meet with no 
mercy from me.” 

Sabina’s features were convulsed with fearful passions, as 
he tried to talk calmly of his base intentions. But the words 
came hissing from his lips, and fell like a doom of perdition 
on her ear. He was about to speak further, when he was 
summoned on deck. He quitted her with a look such as left 
no hope behind. 

“ Then, knowing the worst, I will meet it,” she exclaimed, 
starting frantically to her feet, as all the terrors of her peri- 
lous position fled from her mind. Her nerves were firm, and 
her resolve was high to save herself or perish before disho- 
nor. Throwing her eyes around the room, she took in every 
object at one comprehensive and scrutinizing glance, and, 
with a moment’s hesitation, she sprang upon a table to grasp 
the jewelled handle of a poniard scarce visible from, behind 
a magnificent picture-frame. A smile of daring courage for 
an instant illumined her countenance, as she examined and 
fondled the deadly weapon. She put it in the rich sheath to 
place it in her bosom. 

“ How let him come. Come when he may, I fear him not ; 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


531 


and may the Almighty pardon a poor girl who saves herself 
from wrong, from remorse, from dishonor.” She paced the 
room with the tread of one stung to frenzy by the crime with 
which she was menaced. Her resolution seemed to grow 
stronger as she contemplated the outrage in all its horrors, 
and it was only when her strength gave way under her in- 
tense excitement that she threw herself upon a seat. 

Her humble home arose before her vision, such as it would 
appear when she was gone, was lost, was worse than in the 
cold grave. N^o one now to comfort Morton in his misery ; 
no one to encourage him in the path of duty or to promote 
his happiness. What, too, would he think of her ? No, no ; 
he would know she was abducted by force. He would love 
her, he would pity her ; it would kill him. Then her aged, 
helpless, desolate parent ! How could his days be prolonged 
in her absence, without her watchful care over him ? He 
would need everything, and yet have nothing, for he would 
soon be in poverty and childless. But Providence had 
watched over them before. His hand might yet avert this 
calamity. For an instant she had forgotten His arm that 
had been to her a shield in danger, an unerring guide in 
times of trial and distress. Why did she now despair of His 
aid ? In Him she would still put her trust. Bursting into a 
flood of tears, she drew the poniard from her bosom to gaze 
on its keen edge and dazzling richness, as she once more re- 
called her sinful intentions to use it in self-defence : then the 
innocent orphan cast it thoughtfully from her, exclaiming : 
“ I will do no murder.” But all hope fled with it ; her nerves 
and mind sank under her inevitable, impending fate, and 
with a cry of despair, she fell prostrate to the floor, insensi- 
ble in a swoon. 

The same afternoon, when the bells of Trinity were ringing 


582 


THE METKOPOLITES. 


merry chimes, Morton Burk stood in Wall street listening to 
the sweet sounds. A note was slipped into his hand as ho 
listened, and a harsh voice grated on his ear : “ Hasten to 
the South Ferry !” He opened the note to read rapidly these 
lines written in pencil ; — 

“The Rose-Bud has been enticed on board the Chula. 
She is lost beyond redemption. Save her, if you can, and 
you will have the aid of 

“Charles Nevil.” 

Morton looked around in a bewildered stupor, but no one 
was near him who could have been the messenger. He 
walked up the street without being conscious of his move- 
ments, although bending his steps in the direction indicated 
by the mysterious voice. On reaching Broadway he entered 
a stage, which soon whirled him with swift speed down to 
the Battery. Upon the parapet, near the flagstaff, stood 
Charles Nevil, watching intently the movements of a small 
steam tow-boat, the Yellow Jacket, coming round from the 
North into the East river. As it approached he hailed, desir- 
ing the master to stop. Without accosting Morton in his 
haste and anxiety, he hurried him into a small skiff, in which 
they were soon rowed to the side of the steam-tug. 

“Are you engaged at this moment, Captain ?” asked Ne- 
vil, as he and Morton climbed on board. 

“Not in particular, sir. What do you want?” 

“ Do you see yon top-sail schooner floating down with the 
tide through the ‘Narrows ?” asked Nevil. 

“ Well, what of it ?” 

“ For an attempt to overhaul her I will give you one hun- 
dred dollars. If you succeed in putting me on board, five 
hundred.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


533 


Instantly the paddle-wheels were in motion, and the Yellow 
J acket was heading towards Staten Island. The little craft 
flew through the water as the captain ordered the engineer 
to cany the heaviest head of steam she would bear. Nevil> 
in the meanwhile, informed Burk of Sabina’s nefarious inten- 
tions, and in a few words gave an insight into his despicable 
life and former adventures. The chase promised to be a long 
one, with the chances on the side of the yacht escaping. The 
tide was now nearly on a stand, but a favorable breeze was 
springing up from off Long Island, which would soon fill her 
sails and send her in a short time to sea beyond pursuit. 

It was the movements of the Yellow Jacket which attracted 
the notice of the Caheza Negra^ and, in his watchful suspi- 
cion, had induced him to call Sabina on deck from the side 
of the drooping Rose-Bud. But Sabina for once was deceived. 
He would not believe a steamboat was in pursuit. No one 
as yet, he imagined, could suspect his design, and least of all 
could the old man, or Waywode, conmiand the services of a 
towing vessel for such a purpose, even if they were alarmed, 
which was not probable. The steamboat, no doubt, was run- 
ning to the Quarantine or to the Hook to bring up some 
merchantman inward bound. Sabina, therefore, dismissed 
all thoughts on the subject, to turn his attention to clearing 
the decks and putting everything in its proper place prepara- 
tory to their reaching blue water. 

But tlie Yellow Jacket was gaining on the yacht. Morton 
was urging the captain to burn some staves he found on 
board, so as to generate more steam, while Nevil in his impa- 
tience had seated himself on the safety-valve for the same 
purpose. Staten Island was passed with the hull of the Chula 
visible to the south of them. But the breeze was holding 
fair, which was an advantage to Sabina. The Hook was in 


534 


THE METROPOLITES. 


sight, where he would be safe, for the little river craft could 
not venture out in the ocean beyond the bar. 

As the tide went down a mist rose over Coney Island, indi- 
^ cative of coming rain. At the next instant a puff of wind 
blew in their faces, which made the sails on the Chula flap upon 
the spars and cordage. Another still stronger puff checked 
the onward motion of the yacht. The top-sails had to be 
taken in, with a reef in the jib. Her course was laid to the east, 
with an indication of all hands on board running to the hal- 
yards to let go on the instant. How the steamboat gained 
rapidly upon the Chula. But as the lowering horizon 
threatened a heavy gale, Sabina was too intent on the ma- 
nagement of the yacht to cast even a hasty glance astern. 
Black clouds spreading themselves over the bar seaward, and 
casting a sombre shadow like a fimereal pall across the bay, 
rolled along the heavens rapidly till they hung over their 
heads, where, bursting in torrents of rain, they almost shut 
out all light of day. 

At the same moment the little Yellow Jacket ran along- 
side of the yacht and made fast. A vivid flash of lightning 
dazzled the sight of the sable crew, and a crashing thunder- 
clap completed their consternation, as Burk sprang on board 
among them to attack Sabina, who was standing by the main- 
mast. The impetuosity of Morton’s onset threw back his 
adversary. But immediatejy recovering his feet, he hurled 
Burk from him with violence. Again Morton turned to the 
charge, striking his foe with his flst. On the instant they 
grappled in a deadly struggle, which would have brought 
Sabina prostrate to the deck had not Morton’s foot slipped ; 
but seizing Sabina by the throat, he pressed him to the further 
side of the yacht. Sabina was feeling for a weapon in his 
bosom, and as they touched the outer edge of the deck, ho 


THE METROPOLITES. 


535 


brandished it in his right hand to strike it deep into Morton’s 
shoulder. A second blow came with redoubled force upon a 
vital part of his neck, at the moment when Burk had almost 
thrown him overboard. Morton’s grasp relaxed under the 
mortal wound with his body bending over the side of the 
yacht, while Sabina, shaking off his dying hold without much 
effort, threw his nearly lifeless body into the dark sea. But 
as Morton plunged headlong, another flash of lightning reveal- 
ed a red-spot suddenly visible behind Sabina’s left ear, with 
blood trickling down to his neck, and his arms thrown wildly 
above his head. He gave but one piercing yell of agony, 
and, reeling, fell dead into the deep. 

No one had heard the report of a revolver near the wheel- 
liouse where Nevil stood on the tow-boat; no one had wit- 
nessed the pistol falling into the water in the drippings of the 
paddle-boxes : for amid the roar of the winds and ocean, and 
loud peals of thunder, the escape-pipe was sending off its hiss- 
ing, blinding vapor with a deafening noise. In imminent 
danger of a collision, and in apprehension of being swamped, 
the Yellow Jacket cut loose from the yacht, as the stoim was 
now increasing to a hurricane, while the crew of the Chula, 
intent only on their personal safety, clewed up the fallen sails 
and cast anchor. 

Tlie Rose-Bud recovered for a moment from her fit of insen- 
sibility and despair to open her eyes, unconscious of her 
position. A beautiful being, such as she had never seen in 
the form of man, stood over her with beaming eyes of pity 
and compassion looking down with tenderness upon her pros- 
trate form upon the floor. But a cloud of forgetfulness came 
over her as she closed her eyes from a flash of lightning. 
She was incapable of thought or action, while she lay almost 
breathless. 


536 . 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Yet there was a sense of something being done for her 
relief and for her good. No dread of coming evil was on her 
mind, nor sound, nor movement indicative of meditated 
wrong. A dream of security, of pleasure, pervaded her being, 
while caresses were bestowed upon her such as she received 
from her dear mother in infancy. 

Her little straw bonnet being untied, was laid carefully 
away, her tresses put back, and her temples bathed delicately 
as her head rested on the lap of some one. A pleasant liquid, 
sweet and strengthening, was placed to her parched tongue, 
and it seemed that several times her lips and fingers received 
impressions of kisses on them. Her dress was unfastened, her 
stays unlaced, to remove a load from off her throat. She was 
gently raised from the floor ; the motion was palpable, but 
not the arms that encircled her, for every touch of that minis- 
tering angel was imlike the touch of mortal. Her head was 
now upon a pillow, her limbs were on a soft, yielding couch. 

Was this death ? — ^for all was as still in earth and air as if 
pitying spirits were weeping. Had she shaken off the body 
before it had received contamination ? Was she now free to 
revel in realms not visited by remorse, where good deeds 
done heretofore are rewarded ? Some fears had come over 
her, but for what, or when, was forgotten, as they were now 
gone. No harm could come in the presence of that one with 
beauteous eyes, who looked into her soul to read nothing but 
innocence therein. Does he still chafe her soft fingers and 
smoothe her brow with an exquisite perfiune ? Do their lips 
touch as she breathes sweetly from the silken pressure upon 
her mouth ? 

Tenderly, tenderly, sir, lay her down in that humble bed 
whereon her mother died years ago. Ask not the old man 
with grey hairs and vacant look to furnish you with aid. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


637 


Send hitn who stands by the door, quickly, quietly for the 
physician whose name is on the card. At the signal written, 
at the secret sign, he will come swiftly on the summons, be 
it at midnight or morn, from the banquet or bower, from nup- 
tials or the initial breathings of his first-born. Close the 
coarse curtains of her home gently from external sounds, 
and in the dim twilight one more last, long kiss ; then silently 
steal away unknown, wishing no recognition: unknown, wish- 
ing no recompense for saving the beautiful but poor, helpless, 
motherless girl. 


CHAPTER XLHL 

Important events are often crowded into a single season, 
sometimes into a few days. It seemed, however, that coinci- 
dent revolutions should take place in the fate of those the 
current of whose lives had heretofore run smooth, and the 
same last hours when closed the existence of friends should 
mark Nathan Trenk’s most distressing paroxysm of mania. 
His malady would have been known to others had it not be- 
come known to himself. Loss of memory, want of the faculty 
of attention, an incapacity to reflect steadily on his contem- 
plated wrong to Emma, along with his nervousness, gave him 
proof tliat his mind was gone, especially on one most painful 
subject. 

He was moreover seized with a hydromania that impelled 
him to seek some stream of water to slake his ever burning 
throat and cool his feverish brow. Conscious that he might 
perish, perhaps, in the depths of the river, still the anticipat- 

23 * 


538 


' THE METROPOLITES. 


ed pleasure, while revelling in the cold tide, drinking in its 
freshness, and exhaling it from his ears and nostrils, was an 
imaginary, agreeable sensation too enticing to be resisted. 
Trouble was upon his brain when he thought of Emma Gray 
and the deed belonging to her, which be had in his pocket for 
greater safety. 

He would take the deed with him, for he would never part 
with it. Sabina should never touch what belonged to Emma. 
In the rippling currents, in the cool eddies of the rapid river, 
he would read the document and restore the property to her. 
Once in the soothing element, he would be safe, free from 
pain, and all would be well. 

Rushing wildly from his rooms after the hour of sunset, he 
roamed through unknown streets, seeking for the refreshing 
streams to wash away his sufferings. He looked neither to 
the right nor left : but bent upon one object, his vision, with 
straining eyes, was concentrated to the front for a sight of the 
river to which he was hastening. He was deaf to all the 
usual sounds around him ; he was blind to all the strange 
sights that impeded his footsteps ; he was indifferent to the 
dangers or accidents which might befall him on the encum- 
bered pavements. He did not see the lamp-lighter hastening 
from post to post. He did not hear the newsboy crying an 
“ extra, of bloody murder and drowning at Sandy Hook.” 
He did not heed the policeman staring in his face, half re- 
solved to arrest him. 

Yet the river seemed to elude his search and to fly from 
him when most certain it was near. At last he saw, or ima- 
gined that he saw,, the docks and shipping ; and with accele- 
rated stride he hurried along, to rush upon a house where the 
street ended. Progress to the front was now impossible, the 
way to the river uncertain and bewildering to his confused 


THE METRO? OLITES. 


539 


brain. Turning to the right, he followed a narrow lane be- 
tween old wooden houses, which brought him soon to an open 
place where four or five streets met: He halted to look fgr 
the river, but it was not in sight. Doubting the road to take, 
he hurried on. But in a few moments he paused, and then 
seated himself upon a kerb-stone to rest, or rather from 
exhaustion. 

Something was in the locality, in the very stone he occu- 
pied, that brought back a glimmering of former memories. 
Something akin to a dream of boyhood stole across his dor- 
mant faculties, slightly reviving the scenes and incidents of 
youth. All the objects around ' had a faint resemblance to 
his juvenile play-ground. The stone upon which he sat was 
a familiar sight, for there he had often cracked nuts and 
sharpened his many-bladed knife. The old pump hard-by ho 
had known in foimier times ; and the grocery, and canvas- 
awning, and signs above the doors, the shade-trees and side- 
walks of broken bricks. The houses, too, were the same, 
but old and dingy, more compact, and much smaller than in 
times past. 

How he had come here he did not know ; nor did he recol- 
lect the events that had preceded his arrival. A blank was 
in his mind. But, conscious at present, he was oblivious as 
to the day of the week and hour now passing away. Slowly 
i-ising to his feet, he walked on to push open a gate leading 
into a yard, and entered a plain two-story building at the 
backdoor. Passing forward into a front room, he threw 
himself on a bed, while a heavy groan escaped him as re- 
turning reason redoubled his agony at the thought of his 
wrong to Emma Gray. 

The noise he made in the house attracted the attention of 
an elderly woman who was its occupant. She hastened to the 


540 


THE METROPOLITES. 


bedside. For a moment she stood terrified at the sight of 
Trenk, who was writhing in intense pain. But as he turned 
on his side, their eyes met. 

“IN’athan, dear Xathan,” she exclaimed in her fright, 
“ what brings you to me ? Are you very sick ? Shall I send 
for the doctor?” 

“No, aunty,” he answered, “let me go to my grave. I 
want no doctor. I want to die !” 

“ What is the matter ?” 

“ Matter enough to make me miserable, and it is best it be 
not known.” 

“ Then you are not sick ?” added the woman, who was 
none other than the German laundress, Rosey, here in her 
own home. 

“If I were sick, dear aunty, you could relieve me; but 
this is wmrse than disease. It is madness, insanity, with 
which I am punished ; for I am a villain !” 

“ Don’t say that, Nathan, or you will kill me,” cried Rosey, 
in her new fears this speech awakened. “ Don’t say so ; you 
could harm no one. Poor fellow !” 

“ But I tell you I have ; with baseness, with dishonor, with 
guilt on my soul. I cannot live and think of that poor orphan 
girl whom I have ruined.” 

“ A poor orphan girl !” repeated the laundress. “ Oh, Na- 
than, how could you do that?” sobbing while she spoke. 
“ But maybe she is to blame.” 

“Aunty, you do not know who you are talking about,” 
rising and seating himself on the bedside. “ She is young 
and innocent ; she believed me her friend, and how have I 
betrayed her. I ought to have protected the helpless lady, 
but I have been a knave. In the temptation, I forgot all that 
you had taught me ; and Emma Gray is the sacrifice.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


541 


A jnercing cry from tlie woman, with uplifted hands, 
startled Nathan, as she sank in a fainting fit to the floor, 
screaming : “ His owq sister !” 

Stunned by the exclamation, Trenk for an instant forgot to 
rush to her assistance. But he now hastened to raise her up 
and lay her gently on the bed. 

“ Dear aunty, aunty, listen to me,” said he, soothingly, while 
ho took her hand. “You have not understood my words. 
I have cheated Emma. I have robbed her of her property, 
and in that way have been her ruin.” 

“ She had no property,” Rosey fixintly replied, with her 
eyes closed, as if in mental prayer. 

“So she thought; as you thought; as the world believes. 
But it was not true. Her father possessed some lots now 
valuable. At his death they were worth nothing, and his 
title to them unknown.” 

To this Rosey only shook her head doubtingly, with a sigh 
and flood of tears. 

“ Do you think, aunty, I could tell you a falsehood ? Did 
I ever deceive you? You know me better. You know me 
incapable. Then believe me now, and I will soon convince 
you that I have ruined her only in her fortune.” 

“Nathan, you have wronged her; you say you are guilty. 
JMaybe now you are cheating me if you are so wicked.” 

“ Aunty, it is cruel in you to increase my sufferings and re- 
morse. Why will you not comfort me in believing the truth, 
bad as it is ? See, here is the deed in my pocket which de- 
scribes the property.” 

Rosey took the parchment, and, getting up from the bed, 
moved to the light and opened the document to read. But at 
the same instant a newsboy climbing to the window, shouted 
in : “ Hear you are, an cxtray ; arrival of the Yoller Jacket ; 


542 


THE METROPOLITES. 


bloody murder, and two rich young men drownded at Sandy 
Hook. Duel in high, life ; death of Morton Burk and Spa- 
niard Sabynay. Here you are, only a^ half-dime. Burk and 
the Spaniard drownded !” 

h^athan snatched the printed sheet from the newsboy and 
hastily devoured the few lines of information. Seizing his 
hat from the floor, he ran into the street. 

Again the people- whom he encountered beliet^ed him the 
madman, as he moved on seeking the most direct course to 
Hoboken, where his yacht was moored. Now no mental 
aberration was on his mind, but free and clear ; with only one 
idea, however — to hasten to Sandy Hook to know the worst, 
and even at the worst to rescue the body of the beloved 
Morton Burk. 

As he reached the ferry he recognised two branch-pilots, 
whom he pressed into his service. With these he went on 
board his yacht. And soon her sails were spread for the 
Hook. The Chula was still at anchor where the catastrophe 
happened. It was now past midnight when Nathan stepped 
on deck to summon the Gdbeza N'egra to his presence. That 
worthy gentleman was inclined to silence, not wishing to be 
interrogated, excusing himself under the plea of not under- 
standing what was said to him. But Nathan soon brought 
him to a difierent view of his position, plying him with argu- 
ments in Spanish and Portuguese, which augmented his fears, 
until he melted into a talking mood. Moreover he was re- 
lieved in knowing that Trenk wished only for such informa- 
tion as to the state of the wind, the tide, and other facts at 
the time of the tragedy that would enable him to prosecute 
his search for the body with intelligence and some hopes of 
success. 

When morning dawned, Trenk enlisted wreckers and 


TPTE METROPOLITES. 


543 


Others familiar with the channels or currents, to assist. At 
noon their efforts seemed unavailing, with a disposition on 
the part of many to relinquish further pursuit in despair; 
but before evening a shout came from a small oystei* sloop, 
and signals for Nathan to hasten. On his ai-rival he was dis- 
appointed when seeing the men had nothing. But they 
beckoned for him to approach, and they pointed in silence 
down into the placid water, where beneath him he saw 
Morton Burk standing upright, with his feet upon tlie sandy 
bottom. Tears came into Nathan’s eyes at the affecting 
spectacle, while the men, lowering a rope, succeeded in 
attaching it to one arm of the corpse to raise it with ease 
to the surface. 

The body was taken on board the yacht where Morton 
had so often passed many happy hours. Now the crew 
were in mourning, the pennon at half-mast, as they sailed 
up the Bay. On an intimation to the Cabeza Negra^ the 
Chula followed, and some other small craft, falling into line, 
spread their sails with streamers lowered, indicative of the 
calamity in which all were interested. On arriving at the 
city, Nathan, with much reluctance, quitted the side of his 
deceased friend to give way for those whose services are 
required with the dead. But he ordered that all needful 
offices to the remains of poor Morton should be performed 
on board the yacht, for he deemed it proper to retain the 
corpse till morning, when it could be borne in a befitting 
manner to his late residence at the mansion of Mrs. Vaii- 
dorp. 

Nathan went on shore to return .again to the house of his 
nurse, Rosey. But, although it was now late at night, she 
had not yet come back from a visit to Emma Gray. In 
truth on the evening previous, when Nathan quitted her pre- 


544 


THE METROPOLITES. 


sence, she had lost no time in seeking Emma. N’othing 
would satisfy the laundress save a personal explanation from 
the orphan girl. Therefore Rosey, keeping the precious 
parchment document in her hand, walked with all speed to 
seek her. Throwing herself into a seat when reaching Em- 
ma’s quiet room, where she found her reading (for Rosey 
was both agitated and fatigued), she accosted the young 
lady with as much composure as she could summon. 

“ How are you this evening, Emma ?” 

“ Veiy well, dear Rosey ; and it is kind in you to come to 
see me.” 

“ I thought you might be sick.” 

“ No, no, dear Rosey ; what made you imagine that ?” 

“Well, I don’t know. People always can’t tell what is 
going to happen,” replied the laundress, looking dowm at the 
parchment in her hand. 

“ I pray nothing unfortunate will happen to me, for I never 
was so happy as I am now.” 

“ Emma, do you know a young man called Nathan Trenk ?” 

“ Yes ; yes, I do ; I know him well. He is one of my very 
best friends,” her face beaming with delight at the mention 
of his name. 

“ Trenk is my name, too.” 

“ So it is, Rosey. I never thought of that. Oh, if you only 
knew his parents, how fortunate it might be !” 

“ When did you see him, Emma ?” 

“ Let me see ; not for a very long time. It may be three 
or four months. Why do you ask, Rosey ?” 

The laundress gave a long sigh of infinite relief, feeling a 
h.eavy load was off her mind, as she answered : 

“He says you have some property left to you by your 
father.” 


THE METROPOLTTES. 


645 


“I am afraid Mr. Trenk is mistaken,” Emma replied. 
“ The treachery of a merchant ruined my parent and broke 
his heaii}. He died, believing himself not only bankrupt but 
dishonored. It was soon found out_ he was defrauded ; the 
money was then restored, which enabled them to pay all my 
father’s debts. But that was all ; nothing remained for me.” 

“ Who told you, Emma, that it was found out that your 
father was cheated ?” 

“ My aunt has told me, and my uncle often ; very often. 
You seem to doubt it, Rosey?” 

“ It was kind in them to make you believe that.” 

“ They did not tell me all about it, for I have the news- 
paper account which uncle Tantis gave to me, and which I 
keep in my album.” Emma hastened for an old copy of the 
Sunday Retrospect containing the oft-mentioned article on 
Chester. It may be well imagined what were the conflicting 
emotions of the good woman as she read the exculpation of 
Lionel Gray, whose memory she revered, and also her humi- 
liation, if not self-reproach, in finding she had concealed the 
knowledge of Nathan’s parentage in the mistaken belief that 
his father’s name had become a public stigma which it was 
better, for the boy’s sake, that neither he nor others should 
ever know. 

Rosey heaved a deep sigh as she handed the paper to 
Emma. The perusal convinced the good woman she had 
kept a useless secret for a quarter of a century. But how to 
disclose it was now the difficulty, as she could not summon 
language to her command in her present excitement to make 
the needful explanations with which it must be accompanied. 
In this dilemma she again reverted to the deed for the proper- 
ty, explaining she would be an heiress to an estate having 
seventy years to rim, and making her immensely wealthy. 


546 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Having disposed of that subject, Rosey next hinted at 
Emma finding, perhaps, in Nathan a near relative ; adding 
that she believed his name was not Trenk, from some cii’cuni- 
stances within her own knowledge. 

However much Emma might have become excited by these 
revelations so important to her happiness and comfort, they 
were instantly forgotten when Rosey disclosed the afiiicting 
news of Morton’s death. In her thick-falling tears Emma 
tried in vain to read the “ extra” Rosey had brought with her. 
He was the first friend whom she had ever lost, and now lie 
seemed the only one that had for her the afiection of a near 
and dear relative. It was some consolation to know Nathan 
had gone to the rescue ; and so implicit was her confidence 
of success in whatever he might undertake, she even had 
hopes he would restore Morton to life in some way : for she 
could not imagine him now an inanimate corpse, having seen 
him only a few days before in full health and vigor. After 
soothing the distressed girl with many kind words, Rosey 
finally took her departure. 

But Emma was too helpless without Rosey to share her 
grief. She tlierefore sent frequent messages to -the laundress 
next day for her to come and comfort her. Rosey, however, 
was anxiously waiting for news from Nathan with which to 
afford the distressed orphan some solace, and therefore did 
not go until evening, when she despaired of hearing from 
him. It thus happened she was absent when he called at her 
home. He threw himself on the bed to await her return. 

He would have been content to sleep if slumber had come 
to his eyes. But his nerves were under too much excitement 
to permit rest to his weary brain. Yet, amid all the agitat- 
ing thoughts ever present to his busy mind, his memory 
insensibly led him back to his infancy and boyish days when 


THE METROPOLITES. 


547 


this house was his humble and unhappy home. He knew 
that Rosey loved him as much as it was in lier nature to love. 
But his happiness was affected by circumstances unnoticed 
by hei*, and perhaps beyond her influence. He lived among 
childi-en of his own age, who had their parents to watch 
them, to pity, to caress, to favor them ; while he stood by to 
witness endearments never bestowed on him, and to suffer 
for the faults of others, without sharing in the petty prefer- 
ences which at the time he thought of the utmost magni- 
tude. 

Yet in his infant soul he had yearned for affection from 
these people. How much had he striven to gain the yuaise 
and kind notice of the two foreigners whom lie called his 
uncles. With this object, how ardently had he pursued his 
study of languages, his lessons in dancing, his music, both 
vocal and instrumental, on the piano, flute, and cremona, on 
liorns, bugles, and trumpets. They called him a prodigy, and 
that was pleasing, because it yjromised affection and regard. 
They were proud of him. Still their adulation did not bring 
the recompense he sought ; they loved their own children 
better than him. The two ladies, his aunts, were equally 
kind ; never rough nor harsh, but always gentle,' encouraging 
his efforts and extolling his talents. But he knew it, he felt 
it, he saw it, he could not tell how it was, they did not love 
him as they loved his playmates. 

At night, too, when his aunt Rosey took off his little 
clothes and bathed him, and heard his baby prayers, and put 
him into his pretty cot, he had often hung upon her neck to 
kiss her and beg she would be his mother. And she had 
promised, often promised with tears in her eyes, wondering 
much what the dear little fellow wanted. But it was an in- 
definable something not developed on his mind, inexpressible 


548 


THE METROPOLITES. 


in words, but no less painfully felt at heart, a craving expe- 
rienced by all orphans when more favored children are their 
companions. Yes, he had been unhappy. He smiled now as 
he remembered how he had sought affection. He had grown 
older, more manly, and friends had come — the Druids, Wal- 
ter Parker, Morton — ^but here he sprang from the bed, re- 


/ 


solved to return to spend the nig 



The entrance of Rosey, however, postponed his leaving. 
Their conversation was long and interesting to both, in which 
she prevailed on him to explain his troubles that had nearly 
a fatal termination. At last, after midnight, he quitted his for- 
mer home to go on board the yacht, but with the conviction 
on his mind that, had he months before made Rosey the con- 
fidant of his financial embarrassments, he would have saved 
himself from all anxiety and distress. She was able and will- 
ing to aid him to twice the amount required. His mind was 
now relieved from all care, and his conscience clear of every 
stain. Musing on the happy change in his affairs, he felt re- 
joiced he could now meet his friends as became a gentleman. 
He only wished Morton were living to rejoice with him. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 


With due solemnity the body of Morton Burk was 
brought to the venerable mansion, his late residence in the 
city. The remains were inclosed in a metallic coffin with 
plate-glass at the head, so as to admit to view his features 
now calm in death. When the attendants had borne him to 
one of the inner parlors on the first floor, they slowly retired. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


549 


leaving Nathan alone with all that remained on earth of one 
whom he loved so well. In the dim light of the luxurious 
apartments, he leaned against the pedestal of a statue, in a 
remote corner, where he might indulge his grief in the deep- 
est solitude. 

The rustling of a lady’s dress soon admonished him of 
approaching footsteps ; at the next instant the Lady Dowager 
entered with slow and stately tread. Her eyes were fixed 
on the bier where Morton lay encased in all tlie gorgeous 
panoply given to those who die in wealth. Steadily the 
venerable lady approached the coflSn to take a long, a last 
])arting look at that face upon which all her family pride had 
centred. She believed herself alone with the dead. The 
stillness around was unbroken save by the heavy breathings 
of her own he*art. Into her aged eyes tears welled up which 
dropped one by one upon the velvet pall. “ Gone, gone,” 
she .murmured at broken interrals. “ All gone. He was tlse 
last, the youngest, in whom were all my hopes. Now I am 
left alone — ^blasted, withered, desolate, none to live after me, 
no one to follow me to my grave. All my feelings of love, 
of aftection, and pei'haps those which I ought never to have 
cherished, are buried, buried, as this poor boy will be, in the 
cold earth, while I remain, to walk a living spectre punished 
for my sins before my time. Cruel, cruel, has been my lot ; 
as I was Cl uel to those whom I loved. When will a kind 
Father bid me go in peace ? When will He permit me once 
more to see Lionel and beg him to forgive a weak, rash, poor 
woman, whose heart he broke ?” 

Smothering her emotions and tears, she bowed her face to 
the corpse, when a slight noise attracted her attention. Sup- 
posing she might not be alone, her eyes turned to the pedes- 
tal where Trenk was standing. A single ray of sunlight fell 


650 


THE METROPOLITES. 


upon his form, revealing a resemblance to lineaments she 
knew were now not mortal. The obscurity peiwacling the 
space near her only afforded clearness to her -vision when 
beholding, in the distance, this unexpected apparition. His 
countenance was pale and sorrowful, with a pitying expres- 
sion of intense compassion for the venerable woman whose 
mournful lament disclosed to him a hidden tide of human 
woe. He knew the cause of all her affliction, but in his grief 
for the dead he could not refuse the sympathy he felt for her, 
the last living of that tragic drama. 

He approached to where she stood, while the aged lady 
started back in amazement as he drew near. 

“Again, again you come; wherefore now, unless to 
upbraid me, Lionel ?” 

“Not Lionel, madam; not Lionel,” said he, respectfully. 
“ I came here to minister to the remains of my dear friend, 
to shed tears in silence at his side. But if I can' comfort the 
living, whihi as sorrowful, it may be a more pleasing duty.” 

“ In the name of Heaven, who are ^ou ?” exclaimed the 
lady, trembling. “It is, it is — and yet he says it is not 
Lionel.” 

“ Pardon me, madam ; in this partial light your imperfect 
vision misleads you.” 

“ Who, who are you ?” she repeated, while again “Lionel” 
fell from her tongue as if an involuntary utterance. 

“ Not Lionel, let me assure you ; but perhaps his son.” 

“ He had no son. O God ! that he had only left one !” 
she cried, with uplifted hands, while her limbs almost sank 
under her. Nathan hastened to her support, and leaning on 
his arm, she was led to a sofa. Kneeling at her feet, he took 
her aged hand to calm her agitation. “ Ilis son !” she re- 
peated. “ It cannot be ; he had no son.” 


THE METROPOLITES. 


551 


“ But yesterday I learned the fact, madam. My fatlier 
was supposed to have died bankrupt and in infamy. A nurse 
had me in charge at the time, and in her affection concealed 
all knowledge of my history, giving me her own name, that 
I might not inherit a father’s shame.” 

“ Can this be true ? Can kind Heaven have afforded me 
an alleviation for my deadly sin ? Open the window, 
quickly, that I may look into your eyes, for your voice in its 
tones tells me more than your tongue.” 

When he obeyed her order, he returned to find her weei> 
ing with her face buried in the cushion. He sat down at her 
side, and putting his arm around her, took once more her 
hand, which she willingly relinquished to him. 

“ Let me see you ; let me see,” she exclaimed, and agam 
Nathan threw himself at her feet at her command. 

She placed her fingers on his brow to gaze on his manly, 
handsome features. “ Yes, yes, it is too true ; the same hair, 
the same blue eyes with long, silken lashes, the mouth — all, 
all which once he had. Why did I not know this before ? 
Why did I not save you from degradation, and by so doing, 
save myself from much pain and endless misery ? Poor fel- 
low, your father was cruel ; but I forgive him in having you 
to look upon, to lean upon in my lonely bereavement. Yet 
you know not, and never will know, how I have suffered.” 

“ Kind, good madam, I know it all ; and if a son can be 
taken for a father’s atonement, let me comfort you in saying 
my parent did you a great, an irreparable wrong ; why, I 
know not. But you and his children have sufiered from his 
act. Be it therefore my duty, as it will always be a plea- 
sure, to console you for your loss and mingle my tears in 
your afflictions ; to be your son if you wish, and to love you, 
as for many years I have pitied you in my heart.” 


552 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Will you be this to me, poor boy ; and have you come, 
when my need was greatest, like a boon from Heaven to 
bring joy and gladness to me in my distress ? Now when 
the grave closes over Morton, you appear to do more than 
supply his place. It is strange this revelation is made at 
the tomb.” 

“ Dear madam, the earth never opens to receive the dead 
without, at the same time, some facts coming to light not 
known before to the afflicted family ; perhaps to double their 
anguish, perhaps to relieve a weight from off their souls. It 
may be you have beeil favored by Providence in this 
calamity. Henceforth your burden of trials may be less. 
Let me, at least, hope so while I strive to realize the 
wish.” 

“ The weight of years is already off my mind in having 
you with me. At last the hand of wrath is stayed, for I 
feel in your presence that sins may be forgiven in mercy. 
But who is this that enters unbidden and not wished for at 
this hour ?” 

' Well might this exclamation escape the lips of the lady, as 
the Rose-Bud, with her little bonnet in hand, her flowing hair 
falling loose over her shoulders and on her white dress, 
rushed in to throw herself on the body of her beloved 
Morton. Kneeling, she fixed her eyes upon his rigid fea- 
tures till tears blinded her sight. She seemed to offer up a 
fervent prayer in silence for the departed soul, and then to 
sink upon the floor to clasp her hands in that intensity of 
sorrow that finds no alleviation in words or weeping. 

Nathan had lisen as she entered, but in her absorbing 
desire to see the face of Morton, she had recognised no one 
in the apartment. 

“ Who is this young woman ?” whispered the old lady in 


THE METROPOLITES. 


553 


wonder, and yet not without some sympathy for the poor 
girl with pallid cheek in overwhelming grief. Nathan made 
no answer as he looked in pity, deeply affected at the sight 
of her utter despair and helpless woe. But Avhen the ques- 
tion was repeated, the heart-broken Rose-Bud raised her 
imploring eyes, for the first time conscious of their presence, 
as if wishing to hear some kind Avord from them. 

Turning her head despairingly, she looked around the spa- 
cious room Avith a painful expression of countenance, until 
her eyes rested on a full length portrait of Morton recently 
painted. She arose from her knees to walk to the wall on 
AA’hich it was hung, and feast her sight with a pleasure she 
never expected to behold. Her heart-breaking despair soft- 
ened into a flood of tears as the picture brought back tender 
memories of the beloved object. Sobbing in her affliction she 
wrung her hands in silence, Avithout once Avithdrawing her 
gaze from off his well known features already impressed upon 
her soul. 

Nathan approached to comfort the poor child, but she was 
not yet to be comforted. She Avept bitterly when he spoke 
kindly to her. “ Thank you, thank you, sir,” she replied, 
choking between the words and swalloAving the smothering 
sensation in her throat. “ Thank you, thank you, sir. Will 
she not give it — gh'e it to me ?” 

“ Anything, everything the Rose-Bud desiit's belonging to 
her dear Morton she shall have. Therefore do not weep. 
We all share your affliction, and you have been taught to 
knoAV it is best.” Nathan had taken her hand as he AA^as 
striA'ing to soothe her into a calmer mood. “ ^ ill she, will 
slie give it — give it to me ?” again asked the disconsolate girl. 
But without waiting for an answer, she ran to the lady to 
throw herself at her feet. 


24 


554 


THE METROPOLITES. 


“ Bless you, my child ; who are you, and why do you weep 
for Morton ?” 

“ A poor girl, madam, who loved him too well ; better 
than any one in this world.” 

“ Tell me, sm, who is this beautiful creature ? Surely Mor- 
ton could not have done her wrong.” 

“ No, no, dear madam. I wronged him in loving him as I 
did, until he forgot you and your kindness ; and all for me, 
unworthy of him. I am poor and ignorant, making a living 
by my own hands.” 

“ Did Morton form any ties with this poor soul, leaving 
her now in want to remorse and despair ? Speak, sir ; tell 
me all, for you seem to know her history.” 

“I know only,” Nathan replied, “that he loved her. 
What more, she can inform you. My dear Rose-Bud, will 
you answer the lady’s question ?” 

“ I have nothing more to tell. I loved him, and love him 
still ; and oh, dear madam, if you ever knew what it was to 
love, to worship in your heart something almost as precious 
as our heavenly Father, pity me for my love for him. Give 
me that painting, that I may not be always miserable. Only 
give it to me, and spare to me some little comfort in this 
world.” 

“ Yet you blame yourself for loving him, my child. What 
did he do to you, that you repent of it ?” 

“ He loved me because I loved him. He wished to make 
me his wife, and I refused, because he had not your consent. 
Nor could he get it. This made him unhappy, and I am to 
blame for not thinking in time to save him from suffering.” 

“ Then you would not be his wife because it might have 
displeased me ?” 

“ Yes, madam. You were kind to him , and treated him 


THE METROPOLITES. 


555 


like a son. He had no right to do contrary to your wishes. 
Then he wanted me to marry him unbeknown to you. Oh, 
that broke my heart when I told him it was wrong, deceitful, 
and wicked. But I blame myself for making him unhappy. 
Do, dear madam, give me his picture, and I will pray for 
you, as I have often done when I thought how kind you were 
to dear Morton.” 

“ And you prayed for me, child ?” 

“ I beg your pardon, dear madam, I did ; for I could not 
help it. You loved him; and I heard you were unhappy. I 
did not forget you in asking that blessings might be bestow- 
ed upon you. It was right, I hope ?” 

“ My pretty Rose, it was kind of you. Perhaps your prayers 
have been answered. You are poor, you say, making your 
living by work ?” 

“ Yes, kind lady ; I have a small store with which to sup- 
port my old father. For my mother died when I was a little 
child.” 

“ You shall have the picture,” said she, as she kissed the in- 
nocent girl’s brow, and then abruptly quitted the room. 

“ Oh, did she say I might have the painting, Mr. 
Trenk ?” 

He assured her that she was not mistaken. Perceiving 
her desire to return to the side of her dead lover, he left the 
room to her alone, and in the meanwhile took upon himself 
to give some orders, as everything now seemed to devolve 
on him. When coming back to the parlor, the afflicted girl 
was still where he had left her, but calm and more composed. 
Yet her plaintive tones when speaking were indicative of 
heart and earthly love crushed. Grateful to Nathan, she 
would have thanked him for his kindness had she known in 
what words to express her thoughts ; and to be called Rose- 


556 


THE METROPOLITES. 


Bud by him came sweetly in such loving, soothing accents, 
as to recall many but now sorrowing memories of the past. 


CHAPTER XLV. 

The excitement of recent events was overpowering to the 
weak, worn-out nerves of the Lady Dowager. She was now 
for the first time in many years reconciled to her fate, and 
inclined to seek repose in a more happy frame of mind. But 
both body and spirits sank under conflicting emotions, until 
she settled calmly into that sleep which on this earth knows 
not breaking. In one month after Morton’s funeral, her re- 
mains rested in her long-wished-for home in the Trinity buri- 
al ground. She was gone at last, having outlived the usual 
time allotted to mortals, surviving friends and enemies alike, 
so that neither regrets were expressed nor tears shed at her 
departure. 

The world she created around her to revere’ and court her, 
as well as the many families emulous of admission into her 
patrician circle, were deeply interested in the news of her 
decease. A new order of things arose from the immediate 
change in the vast estate she left. The announcement that 
Xathan was her principal and residuary legatee, was an 
astounding event to that fashionable class among whom such 
incidents produce no ordinary sensation. But these ambi- 
tious people had not yet returned for the most part to the 
city. Perhaps Sharon was deserted, yet many still lingered 
over the grapes and September gossip of Saratoga, or among 
the falling leaves and fogs of Newport. Others were at their 


THE METROPOLITES. 


557 


Bumptuous villas, drawing near to their winter-quarters in the 
metropolis. 

It was natural these persons should reflect how they would 
be afiected by this new dynasty coming into power in the 
fashionable empire. It was a momentous occurrence under 
this aspect. They remembered with upbraiding conscience 
how Nathan was treated at New Year, without any consola- 
tion to themselves in knowing his subsequent withdrawal from 
all intercourse boded no speedy admission into the exclusive 
parlors of the late Dowager. A mental chloroform, however, 
sometimes blunts if not destroys the self-inflicted pangs from 
reproachful memories. Under its magical inhalation, oblivion 
to the disagreeable past in a short period supervenes as a 
soothing opiate, when the most obstinate facts become trans- 
formed into bl ight, into even laudable actions. 

In a private suite of rooms at a Saratoga hotel. Madam Ma- 
caroon, the wife of the rich button manufacturer, held high 
state for a morning reception to her coterie to discuss this 
question. Tliey were all aware Madam Macaroon was known 
intimately to Nathan. Her opinions, in consequence, must 
be founded on extensive accurate intelligence. Her influ- 
ence it was important to cultivate. Her authority, her power 
for the time being, were therefore duly conceded and para- 
mount. Madam Macaroon, that precious piece of mother-of- 
pearl, condescendingly, though modestly, acknowledged the 
truth of the observations made by the assembled Peri. She 
believed her feelings had been very warm to him ; she had 
doubted, in fact disbelieved, the rumors; she deplored his 
situation when he called at New Year. “My two girls, 
Sarah Matilda and Nancy Jane, actually shed tears, poor 
dears, when they saw him on that occasion ; the stories were 
so awful, so wicked.” 


558 


THE METROPOLITES. 


This afflicting sympathy so painfully expressed, and now 
for the first time made known in the presence of Sarah Matil- 
da and Nancy Jane, caused these “ poor dears” to open their 
eyes in amazement at their mother’s cool, but by no means 
veracious story. When they went to bed that night, however, 
they vowed they would tell Nathan the truth on the first 
opportunity, for their mamma had behaved “ shameful.” But 
go to sleep my pretty ones, go to sleep Sarah Matilda and 
Nancy Jane, he knows it all, to remember it hereafter for your 
benefit, although a repentant tear from the maternal pearl- 
shell will not open for her some morn the gate of Eden when 
she stands not alone disconsolate. 

Madame Raquetaque, in her bower of honeysuckles at 
Newport, was in a pensive mood trjdng to recall her last 
conversation with Nathan; perhaps at New Year, but she 
was never accurate as to dates. An impression was on her 
mind she had snubbed him somehow, somewhere ; an impres- 
sion also that he was impudent in some way. But all the 
pai-ticulars had vanished from her delicate memory as cer- 
tainly as his person from sight for a long time. She was 
quite sure he had behaved rudely to her, but with great mag- 
nanimity she would forgive it, forget it. She would meet 
him some time ; she would take him by surprise and by the 
arm, with a “ Come, sir, are you never going to dance with 
me the lancers, the German, or a polka?”* In a sudden 
attack Madam would carry him ofl*, ignoring all previous 
miff or quarrel, if indeed there ever was one. 

But, my good lady, he has not forgotten the time nor under 
what circumstances he bade farewell to Madam Raquetaque. 
Once he believed you were his friend, but the recollection of 
your conduct revives unpleasant, not revengeful, thoughts. 
To be sure, your name is in the Golden Book of the late 


THE METROPOLITES. 


659 


Dowager, her visiting-list, bound in crimson silk velvet with 
steel clasps. An x will be found opposite to your baptismal 
and matrimonial cognomen ; an x signifying, with mathema- 
tical accuracy, an unknown quantity in the sum of his acquaint- 
ances, which, when missives are sent out, the messenger will 
not be required to seek. Perhaps some others may find tlie 
same volume to be an Index JC-purgatorius. 

Nathan received a great number of letters from his gen- 
tlemen friends, which it was refreshing to count, although 
many were from persons who he was not aware had ever 
before expressed half as much interest in his welfare. Glanc- 
ing his eye hastily over them to look at the words under- 
scored, he threw them aside to read others with more care 
and satisfaction. One was from Mr. Pactolus, at Newport : 

“ Dearly Beloved : 

“It moveth me to write to thee, friend Nathan; for the 
sin of omission is on my conscience as a single stain upon my 
innocent conduct ; my heart being as free from guile as my 
shirt-frill is from a false bosom. The summer sky opened with 
a persimmon aspect upon your prospects, but the autumnal 
luck has brought you out huckleberry. This is poetical, but 
you need not mention it. . The Lady Dowager died in the 
nick of time, or it would have been Old Nick with somebody. 
But don’t suppose I speak profanely of her ; my pious educa- 
tion forbid : for I was brought up religiously to believe in a 
pile of money ; therefore her memory is sanctified. 

“ Now, having found your father, I wish you would help 
me to look after my grandfather. A great many grandfathers 
are missing ; some, to be sure, not wanted. But I sent the 
other day to the Tower of London for a family crest, and 
they wanted to know my great-grandfather. I was sorry to 


560 


THE METROPOLITES. 


inform them that important limb in our genealogical tree 
had dropped off into the ignoble mud of oblivion. I never 
heard of him. The tree could now only be known by its 
fruit in my person, and not by the primitive bark. They said 
I was of one of the most distinguished branches of the an- 
cient family of Rivers, and charged me two pounds for send- 
ing me two 1 — s, which was, I thought, a ’ll of a price. 

“ Moreover, a physician is sounding the depths of my under- 
standing to find if hereditary gout be in our family ; talking, 
too, about ray grandfather, and hinting at the ancestral ghost 
of departed spirits, touching me on the toe under tlie maho- 
gany when too far indulging in after-dinner groceries : — Do 
you spell it with a c or a s ? People here in this fast com- 
munity have no Walker’s dictionary except the Railroad 
Guide-Book for reference when a fellow loses himself among 
words of three syllables. Of course, therefore, much improper 
language is in common use, particularly when the coffee or the 
cars are behind time, or when baggage is lost or smashed up. 

“Not a few are in pursuit of biographical knowledge 
respecting the lucky mourner who has weeped himself into 
the Yandorp property. The ladies think him adorable with- 
out a dissenting opinion, and vote him a perfect love crim. 
con . — which is the French, I believe, for unanimous. No w I 
am through what I have to mention, and thank the Lord for 
it. It is such a bore to write letters once in six months, that I 
feel a pity for poor clerks who have to write them every day.” 

Mr. Dace also found time amid his absorbing avocations to 
make an effort as follows : 

“ My dear Nathan : Luck is a lady, and you are tip-top. 
She put you last winter in a back pew among the afilicted, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


561 


and in the summer scraped the gildiug from your capital. 
But, after all, feminines are useful. When purse and credit 
wring the brow, a financial agent thou. The Dowager is gone 
and left her name to other times, linked with one virtue, the 
almighty dimes. On the strength of your good fortune I 
resolved to do something for myself and to give the tiger a 
tui'ii, especially as I had been masticating, free of expense, 
many woodcock and other game suppers. Being the last 
night of the bank, I resolved to gamble off my virtuous 
accumulations. 

“ Well, you never heard of such a run. Wherever I cut 
in I made the chips fly unto me, until I had a solid cord and 
stacked them all at a clip on the king. Doubling again, I 
Atlantic-cabled to the pot to give me a handsome dividend. 
Nothing now but $10 reds, which I columnated on the 
queen, persuading the old girl to blush like a beauty. Turn- 
ing to her in time of need, the dealer turned in vain. She 
came up like moonrise at midnight, large, dark, and swim- 
ming in the stream, smiling with gold coins in every beam. 
I took my pay in Uncle E. P. Unum’s Treasury notes at par. 
Her majestj" still looking seductive on a calculation, I put 
my trust once more in a princess, and, at the same time, 
touched the trey, which did not betray me, nor did my trust 
make me a most unfortunate poor man. For again was a 
spread of Samuel’s spread-eagles on my behalf. Had I lost, 
these golden eagles, in their flight, would have been so many 
lost Pleiads, seen no more below. 

“ Being a plain, unprotected yoimg man, content with the 
comforts of life, and not aspiring to its luxuries, I quit at 
the end of the deal and sent for Sol. You know my black 
boy, Sol ? He came with a carpet-bag to colporteur the chips, 
for I had won all on the table. This broke up the amuse- 

24 * 


562 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ment, as the players were left without the bankers’ elephan- 
tine medium, that illegal tender to buck with. 1 dreamed I 
felt the ivory balls with Sol and grumblers by my side. Pac- 
tolus and Anthon, and many more, grew profane and 
awful. 

“ Finally, to save the commandments, I compromised ; 
proposing to sell the carpet-bag, ivories, and all. After some 
spirited bidding, they were knocked down at a splendid 
advance on first cost. I then departed from the gay and fes- 
tive scene where the tiger’s chain had bound mCi But morn- 
ing came, and Sol with soap-suds, and sunrise, and soda-water. 
A gentle breeze and the gentler sex made their presence felt 
soon after. Next, a storm was brewing, not atmospherically 
in the upper ah’, but a ground-swell among terrestrial angels : 
foi; a whisper was tempest-tossed — a whisper that I was 
broke, ruined, and a repentant sinner ; cleaned out, no credit, 
and could not pay. Pactolus told all the dimmity, in a 
stage-whisper, that I offered to sell my carpet-bag ; and 
another friend, a veracious individual, confessed he had 
reluctantly contributed some coin. He lies ; he gave me his 
check in four figures. Mysterious was the compression of 
pouting lips : gloomy the ominous shaking of empty heads 
and curl-papers, till the ladies were frightened lest I might 
auctioneer their little personal property given to me by 
moonlight alone ; for it seems I was the moon that looks on 
many brooks, and now a lunatic, i am not permitted even to 
sing ‘ by the margin of fair Zurich’s waters.’ 

“Jelly Demors followed me, about the tenth hour, into my 
meridian breakfast. It is the hour with cream from cows 
my nightingale’s high-note is heard ; it is the hour when 
lovers VOW’S seem sweet in every buttered word , w’hen boil- 
ing tea and coffe'e near, make music to the lonely ear. She 


THE METROPOLITES. 


563 


followed me in, to me give a piece — oh, Juniper ! a piece only 
— a prodigious, delicate piece of her mind. If the whole pat- 
tern is of the same texture in the dura mater or pia mater 
of her cranium, I pity the meek mortal who woos her for a 
materfamilias to his offspring. Conscience smites my 
nerves ; I must have scientilically expressed some such senti- 
ments of admiration for the splendid prologue to her in- 
tended popular course of nuptial clinical lectures to me and 
the bed-post. For she stormed a short period, then changed 
suddenly into a weeping-willow, and next came out sunshine 
all in the space of' ten minutes. The time was exact by iny 
stop-watch and her regular breathing spell when she once 
starts. Tear-drops, however, did not soften me into the 
belief she was infant innocence; knowing her to be full- 
grown, with all the baby-tucks in her baptismal linen long 
since let out. But she can’t climb a fence. 

“It was tried' on too steep and too fast. I thought she 
never would perorate in her lament over me, a drooping 
gazelle, who did not love her very well. But her throbs 
reminded me of her conduct, when it was discovered, in uni- 
versal horror — when it was found out in a mortified rage, that 
you were neither blackleg nor libertine. 

“ Softly I propounded the question if she knew one Nathan 
Trenk, a poor young gentleman of obscure rank, with 
parents unknown, who, by his talents, his accomplishments, 
his universal information, his integrity as a man, his honor 
and principle as a gentleman, had gamed a footing in society ? 
Did she remember his being Ukrained when found to l)e 
neither sharper nor gamester, under both of which redeem- 
ing characters he had been caressed ? No pity was shown 
for his misfortunes, no sympathy for his virtues ; those who 
prided themselves on their fine cultivated feelings, having 


564 


THE METROPOLITES. 


nothing gentle, softened, chastened, Christian, in their hearts 
for him, poor fellow. Yet without these womanly requisites, 
they are, of course, still pure under all temptations. Bear- 
ing these facts in her innocent mind, I desired the lovely 
lamb to proceed with her pleasing bleat on gambling. She 
can’t climb a fence. 

“ I hope she will be comforted with the intelligence that 
Sol brought back the carpet-bag, in which, however, is no 
hope for her night-cap on a wedding excursion, being packed 
cosily side by side in matrimonial alliance with my slippers. 
If you ever heard she was to become bone of my bone, 
please announce to the large circle of admiring friends that 
the ossification is indefinitely postponed. We parted in 
silence, we parted in spite near the bank of that lonely tiger, 
and I was left, like the last rose of summer on the Blooming- 
dale road, going it alone.” 

With some trepidation Nathan opened the next epistle, 
with its superscription in a fine, delicate handwriting. The 
letter contained only a few lines, evidently composed while 
unconscious of the late important events, concluding, “ With 
much esteem, from your friend Francesca Strafford.” 

“ Many thanks,” were the words, “ to Mr. Ti-enk for the 
periodicals and other valuable presents sent to us, for which 
we all feel grateful. I write this under instructions from 
amit, and am right glad of an opportunity to acknowledge 
my own obligation for his attention. If permitted to add a 
word for myself, it would be to express the hope of soon 
seeing him at our home, where he would receive a cordial 
welcome.” 

He replaced, slowly, the brief epistle in its envelope, and 
picked up the small pieces torn off in breaking the seal, 


THE METROPOLITES. 


565 


seemingly careful of the remnants as Allah’s faithful follow- 
ers who destroy no slij) of paper, lest, peradventure, a holy 
name may he inscribed thereon. Nathan deposited the wel- 
come memento in the inner, left side-pocket of his vest-lin- 
ing for safety and for a second perusal. His pity for the 
poor child in her monotonous plantation abode was the rea- 
son, no doubt, why he forgot to read further on that day 
from the numerous letters still lying unopened on the 
table. 

But while he was thus receiving congratulations from his 
friends, others were spreading the intelligence which had 
astonished so many. The Americans in Paris learned the 
copious details from innumerable private despatches. 
Claudia was there at the time for her heart to beat quick 
with joy at the gratifying announcement. The three Misses 
Thuppercrust crossed and recrossed their voluminous corre- 
spondence to her. The three virgins were on perpetual watch 
for coming bridegrooms, and these sister-nuns of the white 
veil under perpetual vows to wedding-cake kept their lamps 
trimmed with bandoline, burning in readiness for all bridal 
ceremonies at the church of the Lowly Meekjiess. Their 
frthcT was in the vestry by virtue of his two thousand 
shares in the Oil-of-Vitriol Bank, which imparted to him 
an unctuous aroma of the highest unquestioned respecta- 
bility. 

Claudia returned in all haste in a crowded steamer. Her 
arri\ al was unexpected, but her advent was at a time when 
the frost-bitten leaves were dropping down from the street 
lindens, and when the ladies, who all summer long had lis- 
tened to meadow larks, were dropping in from the coun- 
try. Her appearance, therefore, was only the more agree- 
able surprise to render the greetings on all sides only the 


566 


THE METROPOLITES. 


more charming. The trip had worked wonders to send her 
home, the most beautiful among those heretofore preeminent 
for loveliness. Yocal bulletins were soon spread everywhere 
of her looks and movements, of her pretty words and much 
more pretty wardrobe ; vocal bulletins of every size, of all 
sorts ; bulletins official, semi-official, and authentic ; credible, 
semi-credible, aud incredible for general circulation among 
the cream of creation. • 

When she received, her parlors were thronged with those 
wliose attention is the highest honor ; with those who, behold- 
ing, adored her. They came in strong array to throw fate 
and fortune at her feet, her loving slaves. 

The “ Babes” turned out in great numbers to do her reve- 
rence, and were, at the midnight hour, often stealing softly 
beneath her casement invoking her in song to open her lattice 
— to open her lattice, for love, for love to enter in. After one 
of these excursions the innocents returned in full force to the 
Foundling at a very late hour to talk over the affair, to rave 
over her cruelty, and about their being swamped in her 
ocean of beauty. Pactolus, one of the party, however, took 
the matter in moderation, and shook his head at the madness 
of the youths in extolling her charming loveliness. “ You 
may make cari-hat-idcs of yourselves, with baskets of flow- 
ers in your heads for her benefit ; but it won’t pay no more 
than as many cary-hod-ides with buckets of mortar on yoiu- 
shoulders. Neither perfume nor plaster will fetch her. You 
may perform the to-cow on your knees in her presence with 
all the simplicity of sucking calves in search of nature’s lac- 
teal restorer. You may bear a heavy piano on your backs 
for a Baalam or Bray-ham performance at midnight, with the 
bird of IMineiwa screeching her wisdom to accompany your 
area serenade. But still I say it won’t liquidate. For she is 


THE METROPOLITES. 


567 


one of the Genii from Macgowan’s cave who turn lovers into 
beasts or plumed bipeds, sometimes supplying horns which 
produce blow-outs in the morning papers, sometimes pluck- 
ing them clean as a pigeon, in which ornithological costume 
it is vain to ask any feminine to fly with thee on your Arab 
steed, for it’s no go. 

“ But before withdrawing, gentlemen, as day is about to 
break, when every fellow, after a night’s pleasant spree, like 
the Sultan Schahriar in the Arabian Nights, is very willing 
to cut and run, permit me, a virtuous, beautiful, innocent kind 
of a Scheherazade, to stay your cruel pimpose while I recite 
to you, oh children of the Grand Vizier, the adventures of a 
young Mufti living in an amethyst mansion resplendent 
wdth fairy magnificence, who threw his afiections and scented 
cambric, according to the custom of the Court of Delhi, upon 
the beautiful slave Claudia, from the isles of the west. 
Then of her love for the young Mufti, even when a poor 
boy he sold figs in the market, unpitied and ill-used, till an 
old Fatyma of an enchantress at her dying hour took him 
by the hand and led him to her resplendent palace, changing 
him into a sovereign prince, to reign where she had wisely 
governed since the flight of the prophet. How the lovely 
slave from the isles of the west was sold to the young Mufti, 
but only on the strict condition that she had permission to 
leave, with her slippers outside his harem, all her smiles, 
sweetness, and sentiment wrapped up in a Persian shawl, for 
her private, exclusive use, hereafter to be ventilated when 
convenient, separate and apart from her liege Caliph in com- 
pany with any Bagdad merchant or prince of Damascus, 
young and handsome, loving like a Feramorz and playing the 
flute.” 

But the pretty Rose-Bud never heard this fairy tale ; noi 


568 


THE METROPOLITES. 


would she have listened on one wintry day in December, as 
she in great trouble hastened down to Wall street to the 
office of Walter Parker. She was on foot, with the gallant 
Waywode as her escort. She was in deep mourning for her 
unfortunate lover : but never did she look more lovely than 
on this morning with flushed cheek in the cold air. Every- 
body informed her that the old Lady Dowager had left her 
a legacy. But having procured a copy of the will, Mary 
found her name was not in it. Moreover, a lawyer in the 
Bowery expressed the opinion if her name was not therein 
it was naught. She now sat in Walter’s office in tribulation 
and in tears, telling her vexation. Mr. Parker was slowly 
reading the testamentary document with much anxiety on 
his countenance. He read one long page, and turned over to 
the second with a desponding sigh. But when he wandered 
leisurely down to the last line his face illumined with a most 
joyous smile. 

“ Why, bless me. Miss Mary, here it is as plain as the 
spire of Trinity. Only listen to this : 

“ Item . — I give and bequeathe all my several lots of ground 
“ lying on the west side of Broadway, and situate between 

Canal and Spring streets, to the pretty Hose-Bud and to 
“ he r heirs in fee simple : Also, I give to her the full length 
“ portrait of Morton Burk which she now has in her posses- 
“ sion.” 

“ Yes, but Mr. Parker, my name is not Rose-Bud, and I 
cannot claim what is not given to me. So the lawyer 
said.” 

“ Never mind what the lawyer said. Miss Mary. Believe 
what I tell you, and understand it if possible. In the inter- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


669 


pretation of a will the intention of the testator always 
governs unless some law term is used, which the courts must 
interpret according to its meaning in law dictionaries, with- 
out being governed by the intention of the testator. N ow, 
here the only law term is ‘ fee simple,’ which, by the way, is 
inserted at the proper place for your benefit, ^here is no 
other Rose-Bud, undoubtedly none half so pretty, nor one 
with another full length portrait of poor Morton. You were 
intended, and as a gentleman whom you once knew by the 
name of Nathan Trenk is the sole executor, he wfill sign the 
proper deeds whenever I have them prepared. Rose-Bud is 
a much more captivating name than Dey of Algiers, to 
whom a farm was bequeathed in a neighboring state. A 
young lady claimed the legacy, proved she was intended, 
and recovered the property. Dey of Algiers ! AYhat a name. 
If she resembled the old reprobate of a Turk, she must have 
been a beauty.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Parker,” said Mary, rising, much re- 
lieved in mind, while pulling out her purse. “How much 
have I to pay you ?” 

“Nothing at present,” he answered, smiling at her sim- 
plicity and dispatch of business. “Perhaps you are not 
aware of the value of the gift. Bless my soul ! Miss Mary, 
you are an heiress, to indulge in building marble houses of 
five or six stories, with basements of metallic columns, the 
pure ironic order of American architecture. And now 1 
have some intention to preach to you and the Major a ser- 
mon ; but on second thought I forbear, knowing your atten- 
tion has been drawn to the same text. But whenever you 
have established the Metropolitan Trimming Boudoir and 
the Emporium Art Gallery for ladies’ gaiters, with a commu- 
nicating door between, even if the name of the Rose-Bud is 


570 


THE METROPOLITES. 


sunk in the new partnership,- 1 will always take an interest in 
its success.” 

Mary laid her hand gently on his arm as she gazed softly, 
mournfully in his face, till large tears glisfened in her beau- 
tiful hazel eyes. At length, with an effort, she said, half sob- 
bing : “No, no, Mr. Parker ; your meaning may be intended 
for kindness, but it makes me grieve ; I can never forget him 
who is gone, nor can any one ever have his place with me. 
Yet I know I will need counsel and advice. You and Mr. 
Trenk were his best friends ; be the same to me. You will 
have him in mind when I may want your assistance : for 
whom should I trust more than the friends he trusted ?” 

The same evening Walter’s mother had invited some of 
her circle to spend a few hours quietly around her. The 
young, witty Mrs. W alters, the pretty Mrs. Malcomb, Helen 
Nevil, Emma Gray, and Claudia were there with three or 
four more beauties. 

Pactolus being in town, brought Mr. Dace, and Anthon 
entered with some other youthful gentlemen. Claudia 
hoped in her soul that Nathan would come : but he did not 
make his appearance. Walter was in full glory with so 
many of his lady admirers, who were all in some trepidation, 
it is true, lest he might make them the pleasing subject of 
' his erratic fancy. They knew his foible, and duly watched 
him to enjoy whatever entertainment he might afford in the 
way of amusement, piously praying it would not be at their 
expense. 

But Mr. Parker was on his good behavior, being at home 
with Emma at his side. He was bound under these heavy 
penalties to keep the peace, if* he could — which the ladies 
thought doubtful. They were, however, delighted with each 
charming hour as it flew rapidly away. Walter had sue- 


THE METROPOLITES. 


571 


ceeded to his own satisfaction in pleasing every one. 
Xever had he been more sprightly, more fluent, flinciful, or 
more varied in his ludicrous topics. With several around 
him, he was in tlie full tide of enjoyment, as, taking up a 
remark made by some one, he replied : “ Dust to dust is 

our normal condition. But if it were to read gold dust to 
gold dust, it would suit our commercial existence in this 
Christian age. When people throw dust in your eyes, you 
may be sure it is not of a -yellow color. Yet it is most as- 
tonishing how often those who raise the cloud, if they accu- 
mulate nuggets, become near-sighted towards others who, less 
fortunate, keep on in the way-train of life. Ophthalmia is 
the rich man’s malady, with a sudden attack coming on 
whenever needy friends have the impudence to cross the 
retina of his vision. This will account for premature blind- 
ness before grey hairs need dyeing.” 

Hereupon Pactolus inquired if this deprivation of sight 
were not the great obstacle to rich men passing through the 
eye of a certain needle read of in the Pilgrim’s Progress, or 
some other book. 

“ Probably the eye of that needle,” Walter remarked, 
“ has a cataract in it, and one as difficult to navigate as the 
celebrated cataract of the Nile, into which Egypt has been 
throwing dust since the days of Cheops.” 

Mr. Pactolus acquiesced in the trutli of his important sci- 
entific discovery, promising to have it duly enrolled in the 
minutes at the next meeting of the Self-Sacrificing Associa- 
tion for the Advancement of Talking. 

“ Let me suggest to thee, sage son of Lydia,” sai'd Walter ; 
‘‘let me suggest to thee, veritable offspring of the very 
green Tiniolus, to send it to the Antiquarian Society, since 
your needle of Pilgrim’s Progress, or some other book, has 


572 


THE METHOPOLITES. 


been lost in a haystack of learning. But now the Rev. Mr. 
Mellowtorie has been tugging away at the Hebrew, with a 
Hosetonac tunnel perseverance, and has fpund for rich, men a 
gate of donkey-size aperture, about their photographic capa- 
city, where they may pass, provided their money-bags are 
not checked through. Doctor Brimson, however, is still 
hunting for the needle in the haystack.” 

“ ’ Tis a consolation,” said Mr. Dace, “ and will save many 
a death-bed repentance.” 

“Which are now on the increase,” Walter added. “It 
was but yesterday Madam Raquetaque was inconsolable for 
the exit of the Lady Dowager, before the tender-hearted 
madam had made her peace with Nathan. She never would 
have repented of her shocking conduct to hnn had the old 
lady lived. I told Raquetaque it was a clear case of death- 
bed repentance, but tried to comfort her with the remark 
that there was many a music stool with a fail’ penitent on it 
to keep her company.” 

“I learn, Mr. Parker,” said Mrs. Walters, “we are about 
to lose our fortunate friend. They say he is engaged. Is it 
so — can any one tell ?” 

All eyes were turned upon Emma, who blushed crimson at 
this appeal to disclose the first secret imparted to her keep- 
ing by a brother. Claudia gazed upon her with an eager 
stare of anxious inquiry, which, fortunately, none observed 
except Walter; who, in order to relieve the embarrassment 
of his affianced, took upon himself to answer : 

“ I suppose, from your inquiry, it is . no longer a secret ; 
therefore I may say he has been engaged for some time. To- 
morrow he goes south to visit his lady.” 

Claudia had not removed her eyes from Emma’s counte 


THE METROPOLITES. 


573 


nance, who suddenly screaming from sudden fright, fainted, 
and fell into the arms of Helen Hevil. All ran immediately 
to Emma’s assistance. It was many minutes before she 
became conscious and composed. She declined making any 
explanation, but requested to be taken home. 

After serving as her escort, Walter returned to find his 
mother seated alone in the library waiting his arrival, for her 
company were gone. She was impatient for some explana- 
tion of the fainting scene, while Walter was in equal haste to 
draw his boots. When pulling and kicking with his patent- 
leathers, he imparted to his mother some knowledge of the 
fatal picture which has already been described, in Claudia’s 
family. “ Emma was much better,” said he in continuation, 
“ when she joined Nathan, who, like a good soul, gave her 
much comfort. He listened attentively to Claudia’s marvel- 
lous change of countenance when appearing in the character 
of the old Colonial Colonel. Oh, mother ! what a grim vis- 
age she put on, pale as a ghost, and fierce as a dead Indian 
in war-paint. It was the picture of her old grandfather’s 
phiz, with all his despairing rage. No wonder Emma was 
horrified at the appalling spectacle. Nathan understood it 
all in a moment, from which I infer he has some time seen 
Claudia going through the same scalping-knife performance ; 
never solicited, however, for a second exhibition by particu- 
lar request. Such private theatricals are a little too perpen- 
dicular for domestic purposes.” 

“ Why, my son, did you not stay longer with Emma ?” 

“ I remained as long as possible. But Nathan was exerting 
himself to console her, and hinted at the beneficial effects of 
my speedy departure : coupled with some considerations for 
the welfare of my maternal parent, much more compliment- 


574 


THE METROPOLITES. 


ary to the mamma than courteous to her first-born. We 
agreed, however, before I left, to say nothing of Claudia’s 
new style of features, not adapted to the j)reseiit fashions, 
since, most fortunately for the lady, we only witnessed the 
play — the pale distortion rather — of her countenance. If 
Nathan cannot quiet Emma’s nerves, he will send for the old 
nurse Rosey, who will come in all haste, if it be only hinted 
Emma requires her assistance.” 

It might be three or four years tliereafter, in a hot day in 
summer, poor Rosey, in her solitary home, was sick with 
headache and a burning fever. A carriage drove up to tho 
door, and she, almost unconscious, was borne to it in the 
arms of some one. Resting on the bosom of the person at 
her side, she fell asleep from exhaustion as she was driven 
through the streets. When awaking, she was reposing 
on a cool, downy bed in a beautiful apartment, a lovely 
little lady seated near with a soft hand on Rosey’s throb- 
bing brow. The kind lady gave her some drink, re- 
freshing, cold as ice, to assuage her burning thirst, and felt 
her pulse, smoothed her pillow, once more to place to her 
lips the pleasant cold liquid. The fever was gone, but the 
poor sufferer was too feeble to rise. A gentleman was there 
holding some fresh culled roses, with a small basket of 
ox-heart cherries. 

A beautiful boy, more than two years old, came running 
into the sick-room after his mamma. When told not to 
make a noise, he pushed a chair to the bed and climbed up to 
kiss the poor invalid. He crawled up to her lips and patted 
her wan cheek. He kissed her again, and said he would love 
her better than his nurse who had gone away. He nestled 
in her bosom and fell asleep On her arm. 


THE METROPOLITES. 


575 


“ Emma, dear Emma,” murmured Rosey, “ this is a dream, 
a delicious dream to make me well. For once, your dear 
mother and father hung over me, as you are now helping me. 
In my gratitude I then prayed to God for permission some 
time to repay their goodness, and He heard the prayer of the 
poor German immigrant girl.” 


THE END, 







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